


The Life of Sound

by ACertainZest



Category: Castle
Genre: Alternate Universe, Musicians
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-03
Updated: 2016-12-31
Packaged: 2018-05-04 18:16:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 81,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5343776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ACertainZest/pseuds/ACertainZest
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU: Violinist Kate Beckett is both nervous and excited that superstar composer Rick Castle is guest-conducting the New York Symphony's holiday concert. But when a murder takes place in Symphony Hall, Kate and Castle find themselves collaborating on more than just music. Entry for the 2015/2016 winter hiatus ficathon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_So when the last and dreadful hour_  
_This crumbling pageant shall devour,_  
_The trumpet shall be heard on high,_  
_The dead shall live, the living die,_  
_And Music shall untune the sky._  
-John Dryden, "Song for St. Cecilia" 

New York Symphony Hall rang with the cacophony of dozens of instruments tuning and warming up, singers practicing their scales, and the exuberant voices of people who hadn't seen each other in several months. Outside it was a sunny but cold Monday in December, but in here it could have been any day, any season, almost any century.

"Kate!" cried a cheerful female voice, and principal violinist Kate Beckett looked up from her music stand to bestow a wide smile on her friend, the alto section leader.

"Hey, Lanie!" She stood up and hugged the other woman tightly. "How've you been? Good summer?"

"Not bad. Busy. You?"

"The same," Kate nodded, glancing around the hall. "It's good to be back."

"Yeah." Lanie leaned in and lowered her voice. "Is it true about Perlmutter? The rumors are flying."

"It's probably safe to say that some of the rumors have some truth in them," Kate evaded, but then broke under her friend's glare and whispered, "Rehab."

"Ooh!" Lanie gasped, patting her chest. "I knew it. The man had been looking like crap all last season."

Kate grimaced. It was true, but she wouldn't have chosen to phrase things quite so bluntly when it came to the symphony's beloved but crotchety longtime conductor.

"Hey, there's another rumor going around," Lanie added, nudging her friend. Kate bit her lip and avoided her friend's eyes, knowing what was coming.

"Yeah, that one's true too."

"Really?" Lanie practically squealed, grabbing Kate's arm so hard that she winced. "Richard Castle is going to be conducting us for this concert? The Richard Castle?"

"The one and only," Kate nodded, sighing a little, wondering how much crap she was going to get for this. Lanie was one of the only people in the world who knew just how highly Kate regarded the work of Rick Castle, musical composer extraordinaire, society darling, and renowned playboy.

"Did you meet him yet?" Lanie demanded in a stage-whisper, and Kate nodded reluctantly.

"Just briefly, yeah."

* * *

_Fifteen Minutes Earlier_

Howard Grainger, the symphony orchestra's general manager, had called Kate into his office and she walked in with nervous butterflies tickling her guts, wondering if the rumors were true - that she was about to meet, and work with, her favorite composer. His rock opera _Flowers For Your Grave_ was one of Kate's absolute favorite shows, ever; she had seen it at least half a dozen times during its lengthy Broadway run.

But from everything she had heard about the man himself, she wasn't so sure she really wanted to meet him. If he was as much of a jerk as the rumors claimed, maybe it would ruin the magic.

"Oh, Kate, good," Howard said as soon as she appeared in the doorway. "Maestro, let me introduce you to your concertmaster, Kate Beckett. Kate, Maestro Castle."

"Enchanté," the other man said smoothly, turning from the window to bestow a dazzling magazine-cover smile on her. His hand was warm when it enveloped hers for a lingering handshake, and she didn't miss the way his blue eyes flickered appreciatively down and back up her body. "It's truly a pleasure," he purred.

Kate pressed her lips together and just barely restrained herself from rolling her eyes. The man appeared to think that all he had to do was smile and, what, her clothes would just fall off? Maybe that worked with ambitious airhead opera singers, but Kate Beckett was a professional.

"Nice to meet you, Maestro," she said in her best crisp, businesslike tone. "The rehearsal is scheduled to begin in twenty minutes, as I'm sure you know."

"I do," he agreed, still smiling, appearing unfazed by her cool demeanor. "I'll be ready, not to worry. And please, call me Castle. Everyone does."

"Kate," Howard cut in, "I hardly need to tell you how lucky the symphony is to have had Mr. Castle so graciously step in on a last-minute basis. It's very generous of him to give us his time and talent, and of course he hasn't conducted this kind of thing before, so any assistance he might need - anything at all - I'll expect you to accommodate him."

"I'm sure Kate will be very accommodating," the composer oozed, and this time Kate couldn't hold back an eyeroll, though she did turn her face away from Howard so that he wouldn't see it.

"It's going to be fine," she assured her boss with a calm nod. "Everyone out there knows what they're doing, and I'm sure it will all come together."

"It will," Castle agreed, "and anyway, it's not rocket science. It's just _Messiah_." He paused for a moment, then, and looked at Kate again. "Wait a minute," he said slowly, "you said Beckett?"

"Yeah," she sighed, knowing what was coming. And it did.

"You're Johanna Beckett's daughter," he exclaimed, the realization lighting up his eyes. She sighed again and nodded.

"I am." She waited for him to turn awkward and fidgety, the way people did when they suddenly remembered what had happened.

Much to her surprise, though, Rick Castle remained smooth. His expression became solemn and sincere. "I was really so sorry to hear about her passing," he said quietly. "It was a great loss."

Taken aback, Kate had to blink hard a few times before she could manage a "Thank you."

"Well, let's get to it," Howard broke in with forced cheer. "Kate, I'm sure you have some final prep, and Maestro Castle will be right out as soon as we've finished the paperwork."

* * *

"I just met him for a minute in Howard's office," Kate told Lanie. "Nothing much to report yet. We'll have to see how things go." Taking her violin out of its case, Kate stuck it under her chin and plucked the strings briefly, checking the tension.

"Look at you, playin' it cool," Lanie teased, and Kate groaned and changed the subject.

"Listen, Lane, about Perlmutter - the management is going to spin it as some kind of illness, so lips zipped, okay?" She picked up her bow and played a quick arpeggio. She loved the way the notes resounded in the open space of this beautiful old hall, even with all the other ambient noise.

"Oh, don't worry about me. I got nothin' riding on that. The gossip mill will churn on without me just fine." Lanie scowled and added, "The first-rehearsal pool, on the other hand…."

"You guys still do that?" Kate shook her head in amusement, putting her violin down again. "Perlmutter had gotten way too predictable."

"He really had," Lanie agreed with a laugh. "Remember the year when I won by betting on _Since By Man Came Death_? They all said I was crazy, but the man freakin' loved that one. I got almost a whole new spring wardrobe from my winnings that time."

"I guess you and your fellow chorus members will have to find another form of entertainment," Kate teased, but Lanie shook her head.

"Nope. The pool's still on. You want in? Ten bucks and your guess of which movement he'll start the rehearsal with."

Kate thought about it. For a first-time conductor of _Messiah_ , the odds were pretty good. "It's gotta be either _And The Glory_ or _Hallelujah_ , doesn't it?" she mused. Lanie nodded.

"Those are the favorites, for sure. The first one, and the most famous one."

Eyebrows drawing down thoughtfully, Kate reached for her purse. "You know what, put me down for _For Unto Us_."

Lanie looked surprised. "Really? You got some insider information here, or what, girl?"

"Nope. Just a hunch."

"Okay," Lanie said a little skeptically, accepting the ten-dollar bill that Kate handed over. "Well, we'll see soon enough."

* * *

Rick Castle had watched with a slight smile as Kate Beckett walked out of Howard's office. The few brief words they'd exchanged had left him intrigued, and he was already looking forward to working with her.

As he tried to turn his attention back to the paperwork, he felt his nerves beginning to reassert themselves. Castle was by nature a self-assured kind of guy, but he was out of his element here: conducting a major symphony orchestra and chorus, with music that he hadn't composed, and classical music at that. He knew that Howard was looking at him with some skepticism, no doubt thinking that Rick Castle didn't know his Handel from his Haydn. And Howard wouldn't be the only one thinking that kind of thing here today.

Castle was determined to prove them all wrong. He had spent the whole weekend studying the _Messiah_ score: behind his desk, on his couch, at his piano. He had taken copious notes and felt he was about as well-prepared as he could hope to be, under the circumstances.

Accepting the last-minute invitation to guest-conduct this concert had been a no-brainer. The request, or desperate plea, had come from a guy on the orchestra's board of directors to whom Castle owed a favor, and then his agent had chimed in with a very definite opinion on the matter. "It'll be great publicity, Ricky," Paula had said, pointedly leaving unspoken the rest of that sentence, which hardly needed to be said: he hadn't written any new music in over a year, and anything that kept him in the public eye - short of breaking any laws or starring in any unsavory tabloid scandals - was to be seen as a good thing.

Not that he'd needed much more convincing. He was bored, and tired of sitting around waiting for a new inspiration to strike; and, although he wouldn't have admitted it to almost anyone for fear of sullying his image, he actually really liked the music of the Baroque era. Who didn't love Handel's _Messiah_ , anyway?

And now that he had met the concertmaster, he was even more glad that he had agreed to take this gig. Kate Beckett may have refused to respond to his flirting, but that only made him more determined to get to know her better. And she would hardly be able to avoid him this week; not only was she the concertmaster, but Howard had told him she was also the accompanist and assistant leader for the chorus rehearsals. There would be six rehearsals this week, followed by three performances over the weekend; plenty of opportunity to get to know the music, the orchestra, the chorus, and the principal violinist in particular.

So: a chance to get out of his house and out of his own head; to perform some glorious music that was very different from his usual bread-and-butter; and to spend time with the gorgeous and fascinating Ms. Beckett. Yes, overall, Castle was very much looking forward to this week.

* * *

"Drinks after the rehearsal?" Lanie asked as she tucked Kate's ten dollars into her pocket.

"Sure. If you win the pool, you're buying."

"Back atcha," Lanie laughed, and then they both stopped talking and exchanged glances as Howard appeared from the rear of the house with Rick Castle at his elbow. The orchestra and chorus slowly quieted as the two men moved up to the conductor's stand.

"Good afternoon, everyone," Howard boomed in his press-conference voice. "It's nice to see everyone back again for another holiday season. Now, I'm sure some of you may have heard that our beloved longtime conductor, Sidney Perlmutter, has unfortunately been taken ill. We all send him our best wishes and hope he'll be back making beautiful music with us again soon."

_What a load of horse crap_ , Kate thought, but she kept her expression neutral, setting an example, knowing that many of the eyes in the room were on her. As concertmaster - and long since accepted as Perlmutter's right-hand woman and the person who kept rehearsals running smoothly - she was ever conscious of presenting the right image.

"In Sidney's absence," Howard went on, "we're very fortunate to be graced with the talents of a very special guest conductor. I'd like to present to you all Maestro Richard Castle."

Applause burst out, along with speculative looks being tossed back and forth. Very few of the musicians in the room looked surprised; Kate could see that the rumor mill had been active.

"I'll let you get to it, Maestro," Howard concluded, and stepped away.

Castle ascended onto the conductor's platform, put an armful of sheet music and notepaper onto the music stand, and nodded to the assembled groups. "Thank you very much. It's a pleasure to be here," he said easily, "and to have the opportunity to work on this beloved music with you. I'm hoping that at least a few of you have done this piece once or twice?" He winked, and polite laughter bubbled up.

"Now, I know what you're thinking," he went on. "Half of you are thinking, _look at this guy, does he even have a clue what he's doing?_ and the other half are thinking, _will he sign my chest?_ And the answer to all of you is yes." He grinned cockily. More laughter, much of it genuine this time. Kate shook her head, but even she couldn't contain a small smile.

"It's true that I don't have a whole lot of experience conducting this type of music, but I think we can all muddle through it together. Okay?" He looked around the room, still smiling, and Kate noted with interest how he already had more than half of the orchestra nodding and smiling back. Well, the stories about his charisma had obviously not been exaggerated.

"Good," he said cheerfully. "For today I'd like to try to run through everything without stopping, and then we can really get into whatever needs to be worked on starting tomorrow. Now," he went on, and looked over at Kate a little uncertainly, "has the chorus been warmed up yet?"

"Backstage," Kate said, as the chorus members nodded. Castle gave her a quick grateful smile, and she felt herself flushing slightly. Damn it, she was not responding to his attention. Stupid.

"Good. Thank you. Let's have the orchestra tune up, then."

Kate signaled the first oboist, and the orchestra began to tune as the last few chorus members made their way onto the risers and found their places.

"Okay," said Castle at last, when Kate nodded to him that the orchestra was ready. "We have trumpets and tympani today, right?"

More nods, and the trumpet players held up their instruments.

"Great. So, to begin with, I'd like to run through the three movements that require trumpet, not counting _The Trumpet Shall Sound_ because our bass soloist isn't with us today," Castle went on. "But before we get to that, I'd like to start out with _For Unto Us_ , number twelve."

Kate pursed her lips and chewed on the inside of her cheek to keep a straight face, watching a ripple of whispers and nudges go through the chorus members. She saw Lanie standing at the front of the alto section, pointing a narrow-eyed glare in her direction.

"Did I miss something?" Castle asked, pitching his voice toward Kate. Her stand-mate sat up a little straighter, but Kate merely shook her head.

"No. But before we begin, you might tell us which movements you intend to do for this concert."

"Right! Right, sorry. Um." He shuffled through the papers and books on the music stand. "Okay, everyone, so we're going to do all of Part One, skip most of Part Two except for _Lift Up Your Heads_ and _How Beautiful Are The Feet_ , and of course, _Hallelujah._ " He looked up with a grin. "Can't miss that one! Then in Part Three, we have the soprano solo and the bass solo, but we won't be doing those first two choruses. Just _Worthy Is The Lamb_ and _Amen_."

"Thank you," Kate said, as the orchestra and chorus members scribbled on their scores. She rose briefly and called across the assembled group, "If anyone has questions about the program, come and see me at the break."

"Everyone ready for number twelve?" Castle asked, as Kate resumed her seat.

At her nod, all of the violinists and violists lifted their instruments to their shoulders and held their bows at the ready. The cellists and bass players lifted their bows as well. The wind section sat up straighter, instruments poised at their mouths. The chorus members stopped rustling pages and looked up, holding their books at chest level. The concert hall stilled, an expectant silence gathering as every eye in the room settled on Rick Castle.

He tapped his fingers against his leg briefly, finding the tempo, and then lifted his hands. He gestured four quick beats, the fourth like an indrawn breath that ran the length of the room, and the music began.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: This story is obviously very much AU, and I know that the premise won't be everyone's cup of tea, but I hope you'll give it a chance anyway. As always, please do let me know what you think. I love hearing from you.
> 
> Title of this story was provided by my 9-year-old daughter, who says that it represents "the universe, which is everything, and sound, which is music." Enough said.


	2. Chapter 2

  
_It makes no difference if you're black or white_  
 _If you're a boy or a girl_  
 _If the music's pumping it will give you new life_  
 _You're a superstar, yes, that's what you are, you know it_  
\- Madonna, "Vogue"

After six measures of introduction, the orchestra parts backed off to allow the chorus to sing, and Kate was able to take a moment to watch Castle conduct. She had seen him in action before, both in person and on the screen - his televised performance of the _1812 Overture_ with the Chicago Symphony a few July Fourths ago was a particular favorite of hers - but she had never seen it from this vantage point. As the first violinist, she was physically closer to him than anyone else in the orchestra or audience (not that there was an audience for this rehearsal), and her seat in the first chair gave her an excellent angle on his face.

She wasn't looking at his face, though. Her attention was on his body, the way it moved with the music. Kate had played for a lot of conductors, and each had his or her own unique style; some moved a lot, some hardly at all; some kept the beat simply with their hands or the tips of their batons, others expressed it with their entire bodies. Castle was definitely in the latter category. He was bouncing on his toes, with a slight side-to-side motion at what were evidently his favorite spots. Kate couldn't help noticing how well his broad chest and shoulders filled out his button-down shirt; he was clearly muscular underneath the bland clothes he wore. She found herself licking her lips as she watched him move.

A slight shift in her standmate's posture, preparing for their next big entrance, brought Kate back to herself and she quickly forced her attention back onto the music. As they launched into the lengthy series of sixteenth notes, she chewed lightly on her bottom lip and reminded herself forcefully not to get distracted.

The movement drew to a close and Castle cut off the final notes with a flourish, grinning. "Great. That was great, everyone," he called, grabbing a pencil from his stand and pausing to make a few notes. Around the room, Kate and a number of the other players were doing the same.

"Okay!" Castle went on, straightening up again. "Is everybody happy now? In a good mood? Ready to move on?" His cheer was apparently infectious; most of the chorus members - the sopranos and altos at least - were smiling back, as were a number of the instrumentalists.

"If everyone's feeling good, let's sing some Hallelujah," Castle called out, and more smiles broke out across the chorus members' faces. Kate found herself bouncing a little in her seat as well, as her standmate shuffled pages. Who didn't love the famous _Hallelujah_?

They dove into it with a will, riding the energy that filled the hall along with the opening notes of the well-known chorus. Most of the musicians in the room knew this piece so thoroughly that they hardly looked at their scores. Kate noticed that Castle seemed quite familiar with it as well, although he kept a careful eye on his large conductor's score as he gestured the beats and cued the various sections.

When the sopranos and trumpets started in on their long series of ascending held notes, Castle's body slowed, though his hands continued to keep perfect time; Kate saw him briefly close his eyes and just enjoy the moment, before he recalled himself and refocused his attention on the ensemble. Kate closed her own eyes in a very slow blink, feeling the power of the music flow through her the way it clearly was flowing through Castle. This particular chorus in all its glory, no matter how familiar, always had that effect.

When they finished the piece, an audible sigh of pleasure went through the room, and almost everyone was smiling. Kate sat back in her chair and watched Castle take a moment, take a deep breath, and find his voice.

"Great work, everyone. That was amazing," he said fervently, and the entire ensemble was in the palm of his hand. "But let's not rest on our laurels. There's still a lot of work to do. So hold onto that energy, and let's look at _Glory to God_ , number seventeen."

After _Glory to God_ they did _Worthy Is The Lamb_ , with its extended Amen section, at the end of which the chorus was out of breath and the hall still rang with the reverberations of the timpani. Castle dismissed the trumpet and drum players for the day, and the rehearsal continued.

After an hour and a half, they had gotten through more than half of the choruses, and Castle seemed ready to dive into the next one on the list, but Kate popped up from her seat and got his attention.

"Maestro, you should call a fifteen-minute break soon. Our time is half up."

"Oh!" he said, looking at his watch and then at her with some surprise. "Has it been that long already?" His face split into a boyish grin. "I'm having so much fun, Kate."

"I'm glad," she said, trying and trying to hold back an answering smile of her own. She knew she wasn't succeeding. "But yes, it has been that long, and everyone can use a break."

"Of course." Turning to face the group, he called, "Take fifteen, everyone." The room erupted in a chaos of voices, footsteps ringing on the wooden stage, rustling papers, chairs scraping back, snatches of musical phrases being played or sung.

Almost immediately, Kate was surrounded by people with questions or problems of various kinds. She handled most of them easily: yes, the chorus rehearsal tomorrow was to begin at 2:00; yes, it was okay if one of the violists came half an hour late in the morning; no, she didn't yet know what the seating assignments would be for the spring concert cycle. There were several questions about Perlmutter, which she referred to Howard; she refused to get drawn into gossip.

Rick Castle, of course, was also surrounded, and Kate suspected that most of the musicians coming over to introduce themselves and ask 'just one quick question' were really just fishing for excuses to get near the superstar. She rolled her eyes at the predictability of people.

Then Lanie appeared by her side with an envelope full of cash, which she handed over as unobtrusively as possible. "Don't know how you did that, bitch," she teased, "but if we find out you had advance knowledge, there'll be hell to pay."

"I swear, Lanie, it was just a lucky guess." Kate tucked the money away in her purse, trying not to grin triumphantly.

"Uh-huh," Lanie said skeptically. "Have you-"

"Kate, can we talk for a moment?" Castle interrupted, and Kate startled, not having noticed him approaching. "I don't believe we've met," he added in Lanie's direction, holding out his hand.

"Lanie Parish, alto," she said, shaking his hand, "and may I say, it's a delight to have you with us, Maestro."

"Thank you. It's my pleasure," he replied, and both women noticed how his gaze lingered on Lanie's considerable cleavage before he turned back to Kate. "So, what was the payoff for? Are you dealing drugs out of your violin case?"

"What?" she exclaimed, but then she noticed the twinkle in his eye. Oh, was that supposed to be a joke? She narrowed her eyes at him. Lanie was snickering on her other side. Castle gave them both a wide-eyed faux-innocent look.

"Tell me," Lanie asked, putting a hand on his arm, "why did you choose to start with _For Unto Us_?"

"Oh," he said eagerly, "well, it's just such a happy, joyful piece, and I thought it would be a great way to start us all off in a good mood. It kind of reminds me of a child's birthday party, actually."

Kate couldn't restrain a little gasp, her eyes going to her music stand. Lanie glanced down, then quickly over at Kate again.

"Oh my god," Lanie exclaimed. "Are you two seriously sharing a brain or what?"

"Uh, what?" Castle asked, confused.

Wordlessly, Lanie snatched Kate's musical score off the stand - evading Kate's attempt to grab it - and held it up for Castle to see. In the margin alongside number 12, Kate had scribbled the words _Birthday Party_.

"Wow," Castle said, his eyebrows going up, turning his gaze back to Kate. "I guess we really are having a brain-share moment."

Kate huffed, biting her lip. "I suppose."

"Wait," Castle said slowly, looking again at Kate's purse, "so you were betting on which chorus I would start with? That's what the payoff was about?"

Both women shuffled their feet and averted their eyes. "Um," said Kate.

"Um," said Lanie. "Yeah ... it's something we started a few years back, because Perlmutter was always so predictable."

"I see." Castle nodded thoughtfully. "And I helped you win, so I should get half the prize, right?"

Kate opened her mouth to protest, but caught the glint in his eye and frowned instead. "Forget it," she said sharply. "I won that money fair and square, using only my superior intellect and intuition. I'm keeping it." Anyway, it wasn't as if Rick Castle needed the money. Kate didn't really need it either, for that matter, but that was beside the point.

"Okay, okay." Castle put up his hands in surrender, but his eyes were still twinkling with amusement. "Fair enough. But if any other gambling opportunities arise, I want in." He directed this last comment toward Lanie, who grinned widely and gave him a nod.

"You got it, boss." She gave Kate a meaningful look, the meaning of which Kate couldn't discern, and sauntered away.

"I had no idea the symphony chorus was such a hotbed of illicit activity," Castle said to Kate, putting on a mock-outraged expression. "What else do you people do for fun that I should know about?"

"You don't honestly expect me to answer that, do you?" Kate tossed back, deadpan. Castle smirked in response.

"Well. Maybe after we get to know each other better," he murmured, and hopped back up onto the podium while she was still blinking and gaping at his audacity.

"Okay, people! Let's get back to it," he called, and Kate sank into her chair, her face heating up.

* * *

The rest of the rehearsal proceeded smoothly. They finished running through all of the choruses, and then Castle asked the singers which spots they wanted to revisit. Watching him as unobtrusively as she could manage, Kate noted that he seemed nervous. She couldn't quite put her finger on what made her think that, but she was pretty sure that letting the singers guide the rest of the rehearsal was a deflection technique, relieving Castle of the need to decide for himself which parts they should practice.

In any case, he tackled the singers' requested sections with enthusiasm, but as the end of the rehearsal period approached, there were still several singers with their hands raised.

"I'm sorry we didn't get to all of you," Castle said earnestly, "but please keep your spots in mind for tomorrow, and I'll make sure we get to them. Okay?"

Nods and agreement all around. Castle looked tired, and so did most of the others. It had been a long day.

"Thank you, everyone," Castle said, "see you tomorrow." And the hall broke out into noise again as everyone prepared to depart.

Once again, Kate was surrounded by players and singers with questions of various kinds. They followed her off the stage and back to the administrative area of the symphony hall, where she ended up standing outside the door to the ladies' restroom to answer the last few questions. Finally the last petitioner left her alone and she was able to use the restroom in peace.

As she emerged, she heard the sound of raised voices from down the hall, in the direction of Howard Grainger's office. Curious, she took a few steps that way, then paused, torn. It was probably none of her business, she told herself; she should just walk away.

While she was standing there debating what to do, the door of Howard's office burst open and his assistant, an older woman named Lois, came out with her mouth set in a hard line and a file folder clutched protectively to her chest. She caught sight of Kate and startled.

"Oh ... Kate, I didn't see you there."

"I'm sorry," Kate said. "I, uh, I heard voices."

Lois huffed out a short breath, hesitated, and then stepped closer, lowering her voice. "Contract problems. Soloists can be so - Well, I didn't get the whole story, but I guess Annabel Matthews, you know, the soprano soloist?" At Kate's nod, she went on, "She's been hounding Howard to change her contract. Like I said, I don't know the details, but he's pretty mad."

"Hmm," Kate said noncommittally. Contract stuff was definitely not her business and she firmly intended to keep it that way. Heaven forbid anyone in the orchestra got the idea that they could come to Kate with that kind of thing.

"Oh," Lois gulped, "but I shouldn't be talking about this stuff, it's probably confidential, I'm so sorry."

"No, it's okay. I won't say anything." Kate squeezed the other woman's shoulder briefly, and returned to the stage to gather her things.

Most of the chorus and orchestra had already left; just a few stragglers remained, chit-chatting as they prepared to leave. Castle was on the audience floor, still surrounded by a small crowd of admirers. Kate rolled her eyes, unaccountably frustrated by the people who apparently didn't realize how transparent they were. She tuned out their chatter and focused on getting her belongings sorted out.

"Hey, girl," said Lanie, approaching with her coat and bag. "Sorry, but I gotta bail on drinks. Javier is having some kind of existential crisis and needs his hand held." She rolled her eyes extravagantly.

"What?" Kate paused and looked at her friend. "You're back with him again? Since when?"

"Oh, you're one to talk, chica. Have you even gotten laid yet this century?"

Kate huffed indignantly. "Fine. Just abandon me for your guy. But if his 'crisis' turns out to be nothing more than a booty call, tell him he owes me a beer."

"Will do," Lanie grinned, and departed.

Kate finished packing away her violin and was putting on her coat when the sound of a throat clearing alerted her to the presence of Castle, standing beside her chair, watching her. Her breath quickened a little as she looked at him looking at her. Almost everyone was gone. Why was he still here?

"Well," she said a little awkwardly, "guess this is it for today."

"Oh, it doesn't have to be," he replied, his expression open and earnest. "We could, uh, go to dinner, debrief each other."

"Debrief?" she laughed, buttoning her coat. "What are we, CIA agents?" He quirked a small grin at that, ducking his head. "What are you thinking, Castle, that I could be another one of your conquests?"

"Or I could be one of yours," he shot back quickly, smiling for real now. It was ... a surprisingly endearing smile. She cursed herself internally for being drawn to it.

"It was nice to meet you, Maestro Castle," she said formally, and added, "I'll see you in the morning. Orchestra rehearsal starts at ten."

"Can we at least meet up for coffee before the rehearsal? Discuss our plan of attack for the day?" he urged, following her down the center aisle of the concert hall. "I'd love your input."

Kate sighed and bit her lip, her thoughts whirling. If anyone saw them having coffee together... But on the other hand, she had promised Howard that she would give Castle all the assistance he required. Glancing back at his face, she knew that he was counting on that very thing to get her to agree. Ugh, it was so obnoxious and irritating of him. But on the third hand - or maybe the fourth or fifth by now; she had lost count - he was an interesting guy, and one of her favorite composers, and it was a legitimate request for help.

"Okay," she agreed at last. "There's a Starbucks across the street. Meet you there at nine?"

He frowned briefly in thought. "I have to drop my daughter off at school ... but yeah, I can be there by nine."

"Sounds good." She gave him a nod. "I'll see you then, Castle."

"Till tomorrow, Kate."

They stepped out the front door, descended the wide stone steps, and went their separate ways.

* * *

Castle opened the door of his loft and sniffed the air a little cautiously. It smelled as if his mother had been cooking. He hoped the kitchen was intact.

"Dad! You're home!" called an excited young voice, and he pouted a little as he hung up his coat. He still hadn't gotten used to his beloved daughter no longer calling him Daddy. Now that Alexis was fifteen, she seemed to think that she was too old for things like "Daddy" and ice cream for breakfast. He was just thankful that she still had an interest in laser tag.

"Hey there, pumpkin," he greeted her as he approached the kitchen. "You didn't let Gram burn anything, did you?"

"Very funny, Richard," said a mellow voice from behind the open refrigerator door. "For your information, kale is supposed to smell like that."

"Kale?" he muttered in Alexis's ear as he hugged her, and felt her slender shoulders lift in a shrug.

"It's super nutritious, apparently," she whispered back. "How was the rehearsal?" she added at normal volume. "Did you miss any entrances?"

"A few," he admitted, pulling a mock-offended face as he slid onto a stool, "but I'm deeply wounded that you would ask such a thing, daughter. But since you ask, the rehearsal went very well. The music is fantastic, of course, and everyone was really nice."

"Sign many chests?" Alexis asked teasingly.

"Zero, in fact. It wasn't that kind of crowd."

"No women in the orchestra?" his mother needled, closing the fridge and pouring two glasses of wine.

"Oh, there are women. Plenty of women," he said, distracted for a moment by the thought of Kate Beckett: the snap and spark in her eye when he teased her; the decisive, confident sweep of her violin bow; the long slim lines of her body. A thought occurred to him and he pulled out his phone, scrolling through his list of contacts. He looked up briefly to see his mother and daughter eyeing him speculatively.

"What?"

"Who is she, Dad?"

"Who is who?" he asked innocently, and then bristled when they both rolled their eyes in unison. "I don't have to put up with this grilling," he announced loftily, standing up. "I have some phone calls to make. Call me when the..." he glanced at the pot bubbling on the stove, and grimaced, "...pizza gets here."

* * *

Kate Beckett picked up some takeout from her favorite sushi place and went home. After putting the sushi in the fridge and changing out of her workday clothes, she ran a hot bath. While the tub was filling, she wandered out to her living room and found herself at the music cabinet, scanning her large collection of CDs. Slowly her hand came up, hesitated, hovered, and at last landed, separating a CD case from the rest. She took it back into the bathroom, opened the case, and slipped the disc into the small portable CD player on the shelf.

The opening strains of Richard Castle's "Alice Suite" filled the small bathroom as Kate slid out of her robe and lowered herself carefully into the steaming hot water. It was one of Castle's earliest non-dramatic choral works, a series of short songs whose lyrics were poems from Alice in Wonderland. Kate smiled quietly to herself as the first words drifted out.

_'You are old, Father William,' the young man said,_  
_'and your hair has become very white._  
_And yet you incessantly stand on your head -_  
_Do you think, at your age, it is right?'_

Kate sank down into the bubbles and allowed memories to percolate upward in her mind as her body relaxed.

She remembered her mother coming home with a new CD and saying excitedly, "Oh, Katie, you've got to hear this. This guy is really good. He's a new young composer and I think you'll love his stuff."

She remembered rolling her eyes and sighing, "Mom, I don't have time to listen to new music, not when I have all this material to learn already."

But Johanna had put the CD on anyway, and played it almost constantly over the next few weeks, until Kate, to her disgust, found herself humming the songs wherever she went.

Then, unexpectedly, her mother had surprised Kate with tickets to Castle's then brand-new Broadway show...

Kate paused at that point, redirecting her thoughts before they could get any closer to painful memories she wasn't in the mood to revisit tonight.

She closed her eyes and began instead to mentally review the schedule for tomorrow's two rehearsals - the orchestra in the morning, and the chorus in the afternoon - while Castle's music continued playing softly in the background.


	3. Chapter 3

_A long long time ago_  
_I can still remember how_  
_That music used to make me smile..._  
\- Don McLean, "American Pie"

The next morning at 9:00 on the dot, Kate Beckett was in a booth at the Starbucks across from Symphony Hall. She had her shoulder bag full of music scores, her violin case, a cinnamon roll, and a vanilla latte. Barely had she settled into the booth and taken her first sip before Rick Castle came in, glancing around. He spotted her and smiled as he hustled over.

"Morning. Hope I'm not too late. Traffic," he said in a rush, setting his coat and briefcase down on the seat opposite her.

"Nope, you're fine," she replied offhandedly. "I just got here myself."

"Great. Be right back."

A few minutes later, having gotten himself a coffee and a chocolate croissant, Castle settled into the booth and gave her his smooth smile. "Thanks for meeting me. I thought the rehearsal went well yesterday, didn't you?"

She studied him for a moment. His expression and posture screamed self-confidence - he was leaning back, legs crossed casually, taking up the whole side of the booth - but something in his eyes was telling her a different story. For some reason she felt a strong urge to mess with him.

"Yeah," she agreed at last, matching his casual tone with her own, "it was a good rehearsal. These musicians really know what they're doing. The music practically plays itself."

He sat up a little straighter, mouth opening - but then checked himself, frowning at her. "Oh. You're teasing me, eh?" He snorted briefly and shook a sugar packet into his coffee. "Nice to see you have a sense of humor." But, turning serious again, he looked at her a little tentatively and added, "Honestly, though? I mean, I know I missed a few entrance cues, and that kind of thing, but it went pretty well overall, right?"

Kate relented and gave him an affirming nod. It was oddly charming to see the ever-confident Castle showing some uncertainty, and the impulse to yank his chain that she had felt a moment ago had dissipated.

"You did fine," she told him calmly. "Sure, you missed a few cues, and some of your tempos were off, but everyone understands that this isn't your usual area. And no one's perfect." She grinned a little. "Even Perlmutter misses an entrance once in a while."

"Okay. Good." He relaxed visibly and gave her a grateful smile. "Thanks for being straight with me, Beckett."

"I'm Beckett now?" she asked, amused. She took a small bite of her pastry, watching him.

"Well, you don't call Perlmutter 'Sidney,' do you?" he smirked.

"I doubt anyone has called him that since his mother," she laughed. It was true that a lot of the orchestra members used each other's last names, but she had mostly encouraged them to call her Kate. Still, something about Castle using just her last name - as everyone used his - was appealing.

"So yeah, you're Beckett," he nodded, tasting his coffee and adding another sugar. "Youngest female concertmaster of a major symphony orchestra in the US. Impressive record, Beckett."

She stared at him. "What did you do, check up on me?"

"Looked up your records at Juilliard," he shrugged.

"You what?" she exclaimed, affronted. What on earth was he doing? "How did you know I went to Juilliard?"

"Lucky guess. I was curious about your background. I mean, your mother was..." at that he gave her an apologetic look, "...who she was, and yet here you are, playing the violin, youngest woman concertmaster, et cetera."

Kate really didn't know what to think. "Those alumni records are supposed to be confidential," she groused, and Castle shrugged again, a little sheepishly.

"Yeah, well, I know a guy." While she was still trying to figure out what that could mean, he added, "Anyway, I couldn't get hold of your old violin teacher, Mike Royce, was it? But I did talk to your mom's voice coach, Roy Montgomery."

"You ... you spoke to Roy?"

"Yeah, he doesn't take private students any more, but he's still on the faculty as an advisor. He remembered you very well." Castle paused, looking at her with a strange expression. "He said you were as good a singer as your mom. Said he was all set to come out of retirement to teach you."

Kate breathed slowly, carefully, looking down into her coffee cup. What was this man trying to do to her? "Roy said that? Really?" she couldn't help asking, her voice low and a little shaky.

"Yeah, sounded like he was psyched for it, but then your mom, uh, passed away, and you switched to violin."

She closed her eyes briefly, memories flashing through her mind: her mom and Roy at the piano, rehearsing a song; Roy at Johanna's funeral, solemn and damp-eyed.

"I'm sorry," Castle said suddenly, and when she looked up, his eyes were wide. "I, um, that's none of my business."

She took another slow breath and recovered her composure. Maybe Castle was just trying to get under her skin, in which case, she couldn't let him succeed. "You're right, it isn't," she said, summoning a bit of bite in her tone. "I thought you wanted to go over your plan for the rehearsal."

"Right. Of course." His gaze lingered on her for another moment, searching. Then he blinked and looked away, opening his briefcase. "I made some notes, but I wanted to get your thoughts too." He pulled out his score and set it on the table between them.

They spent half an hour going over the orchestral score, discussing which movements were most critical to rehearse and which particular spots might be tricky. Midway through the process, Castle picked up his coffee cup for a sip, and grimaced when he found it cold.

"I'm going to get another. Can I get you anything?" He spotted her receipt on the table and, before she could react, snatched it up and read it. "Skim latte, double sugar-free vanilla. Got it." And he was gone before she had a chance to protest.

"You don't have to buy me coffee," Kate said when he returned with two cups. He set one down in front of her, and shrugged, giving his easy smile.

"I know." He flipped over the next page in the score. "Let's talk about _And He Shall Purify_. Was my tempo too slow? It seemed to drag in the second half."

Kate frowned briefly, but what the hell, the coffee was already bought; she might as well drink it.

She took a sip and said, "The singers will slow down over those long melismas if you don't keep them moving. You could take it a hair faster, but mostly you just need to keep the beat and not let them slow it down." She flipped another page in the score and pointed to one of the spots she had in mind. "Like here. The tenors will drag if you let them. It's pretty much the same story in the big ensemble number at the end of _A Rose For Everafter_ ," she continued, warming to the subject. "You've got those melismas in the chorus parts that slow everything down in the moments when the soloists aren't keeping them to tempo."

"You know my operas?" Castle said in surprise, and she startled, suddenly realizing what she had said. She ducked her head, her cheeks heating up.

"I might have heard bits and pieces," she mumbled, and knew that the lie was completely transparent. She kicked herself mentally for the slip.

But Castle, surprisingly, chose not to gloat or tease. "Cool," was all he said, and he turned the pages to the next spot.

The time slipped by, and suddenly Kate realized that it was almost 9:45 and the coffee shop was filling up with orchestra members grabbing a quick cup on their way to the rehearsal. Several of them greeted her and Castle, and she sighed internally as she saw the speculative looks coming her way.

It probably wouldn't be long until the gossip mill started churning, and everyone would know that Kate had been holed up in a Starbucks booth with the famous Castle. Of course, the fact that they were very obviously working on the music would probably be omitted from the whispering.

Oh well. There was nothing she could do about it at this point, and she could only hope that the busybodies would lose interest once they saw that nothing was actually going on. With that thought, she drained her second cup and stood.

"We should get over there. It's almost time."

* * *

Castle had watched with interest as Beckett noticed and reacted to her fellow orchestra members coming through the coffee shop. He quickly concluded that she was thinking about what it looked like, the two of them huddled up together while they were technically off the clock. Beckett probably thought that she was maintaining a neutral expression, but he could read the thoughts moving across her face; she was bothered by the idea that people might talk about them, but she squared her shoulders and resolved to ignore it and get on with things.

Castle himself was not at all upset by the idea that people might jump to conclusions about what he was doing with Kate Beckett. He was used to being the subject of that kind of speculation, and had long since been won over to his publicist's attitude that 'there's no such thing as bad publicity,' at least when it came to being seen around town with beautiful women. If people wanted to speculate about his love life, let them.

It occurred to him, though, as he watched Beckett tighten her lips and gather up her belongings, that she wasn't in a position to take such a cavalier attitude toward the gossip as he was. Castle might be brash, but he wasn't stupid; he knew how cruel the music world could be toward a woman; he knew there was a double standard. His reputation wouldn't suffer from whatever anyone might think he and Beckett were doing, but people would undoubtedly suspect her of flirting with him to advance her career. And she knew it.

But he saw the resigned look on her face, and could almost hear her thinking, _Oh well, what's done is done_ , so he told himself the same.

He still felt a twinge of guilt in the pit of his stomach over having dug into Beckett's past. Well, no: if he were honest with himself, what he really felt guilty about was having dropped it so gracelessly into the conversation; he definitely had not been at his smoothest in that moment. Something about this woman turned him into a nearly incoherent mess. The thought made him smile slightly. Around Kate Beckett he felt like he could be his naturally goofy self, and that was fun.

Plus, she was a fan of his music, although she had tried to hide it. He'd had a difficult time suppressing his glee when she let that slip. He'd felt an urge to interrogate her in depth about what she thought of every piece of music he'd ever written, but of course, that wouldn't be very smooth either, so he had restrained himself. They would definitely be coming back to that topic in the near future, though.

With a start he realized that while he had been daydreaming, Beckett had gathered up her things and was halfway out the door. He rushed to grab his own belongings and follow her.

Beckett strode across the street toward Symphony Hall, her bag over one shoulder and her violin case over the other. Castle hurried to keep up.

"Beckett, wait."

"We're going to be late, Castle." She didn't slow her stride for him, so he matched it, pacing alongside her.

"Are you trying to ditch me?" he asked, half-joking. She gave him a sidelong glare through narrowed eyes that actually made him blanch, his steps faltering briefly before he recovered.

"Just trying to do my job," she bit out, her tone clipped. Castle reached out and touched her elbow briefly.

"Hey. Sorry if I, uh, caused you any trouble." It was the best he could do, he thought, with this woman who clearly wasn't comfortable with too much talking about feelings.

But it worked; she softened slightly, giving him a more conciliatory look.

"It's fine. I just don't like being late."

He nodded acceptance. "Okay. Well, that's my bad too, so you can just blame me." He flashed his winningest smile, and saw her fighting to keep a straight face. Oh, she didn't want him to see that he made her smile. Good, he decided. Good.

And then they were ascending the steps to Symphony Hall.

* * *

Most of the orchestra players had already assembled by the time Beckett and Castle came striding up the center aisle of the audience floor, dropping their coats on seats at the front. Beckett was relieved to see, though, that no one was waiting around impatiently; many were still getting their instruments ready, or tuning up, or chatting.

She pulled her _Messiah_ score out of her bag and took it and her violin case up onto the stage, settling onto her seat to get herself organized. Out of the corner of her eye, while she tightened her bow and got her chin-rest positioned, she watched Castle make his way to the podium, smiling and greeting each player he passed. Again she marveled at his charisma and the way he charmed everyone, even the most jaded longtime orchestra members.

"Good morning, everyone," Castle said cheerfully as he stepped onto the podium and arranged his score on the music stand. "I hope we're all ready for a deep dive into this music. Our time is pretty short today, but I'd like to try to get through all the movements we didn't touch on yesterday, if possible. So that's the overture, the Pifa, and all of the solos."

As he spoke, he was flipping pages, and the players quickly switched into rehearsal mode; chatter stopped, those who weren't already seated made their way to their spots, faces grew serious and intent. The group was ready to begin.

Without much more preamble, they launched into the overture that marked the beginning of _Messiah_. Kate loved the short solo that she got to play in this movement, and gave herself over to it entirely, losing herself in the sweet melody and the way the other instruments soon blended in.

As the rehearsal proceeded, though, she went back to watching Castle's movements while he conducted. Today, instead of focusing on his body, she found her eyes drawn to his hands. Of course, she was supposed to be watching his hands anyway, but she was pretty sure she wasn't supposed to be blushing because of it.

She couldn't quite help herself. His hands were so broad and expressive, not just marking the beat, but molding the music in the air. It was entrancing. And something about the way those hands moved, stroking the air, pulling the music together, caused her face to heat up and her thighs to press together as she shifted in her seat.

In such a way, surrounded by glorious music, flustered by very distracting thoughts, Kate found the time flying by. Before she knew it, the rehearsal was over and the players were packing up their instruments to leave.

"So, we get a lunch break now, right?" Castle said to her, after they had both finished answering the usual assortment of questions from the orchestra members.

"Yeah." Beckett looked at her watch. "It's already twelve-fifteen, so you have about an hour and a half to go get something to eat. Chorus rehearsal starts at two."

"And what are you going to do with your ninety minutes?" he asked, just a hair too casually. "Want to show me the best place for lunch around here?"

She looked at him with narrowed eyes. Was he asking her out? It sure as hell sounded like it. Well, that had to be nipped in the bud. Never mind the fact that she had just spent the entire rehearsal thinking inappropriate thoughts about his hands; that was irrelevant; the point was that they were working together and she was not going to be drawn into the seductive pull of the famous Castle charm.

"I brought a sandwich," she said shortly, snapping her violin case shut with two sharp clicks. "And I have work to do. Research for my students," she added, not that she needed to make excuses, of course. Just to make it clear to him that she had other things to do with her life.

"Oh. You teach too? Is there anything you don't do?" he asked lightly, not seeming at all bothered by her rejection.

"Just a little bit of private tutoring on the side," she shrugged. "Fills the time."

"I see. Well, I'll find something to eat on my own, then, I guess." He smiled politely and sauntered off, leaving her staring at his back.

Beckett blew out a quick breath as she watched Castle put on his coat and depart. What the hell was she doing? Why was she letting him get to her like this? He was probably just trying to be nice. There was no way that someone like Rick Castle would be interested in a nobody like her.

* * *

Castle stepped out into the chill of the afternoon air, smiling quietly to himself. He hadn't missed the way Beckett's eyes had widened when he'd invited her to lunch. The fact that she'd refused to join him only made him more determined to break past her barriers. He'd decided not to push it, this time; he was planting seeds, and would give them a little time to germinate before he ... Okay, he wasn't quite sure where the gardening metaphor was going, but whatever. The point was, he felt pretty good about the whole situation.

He ambled down the street, scanning for a likely lunch venue, and mulling over the way Beckett had reacted when he mentioned what her mom's old voice teacher had said. He wondered whether Kate Beckett had sung a single note in the ten years since her mother's death. The haunted look in her eyes made him think that she really had given it up entirely, which was ... kind of sad, really. She clearly loved playing the violin, and she was very good at it, and yet...

A small mom-and-pop deli caught his eye, and Castle sped up slightly, feeling the rumble of hunger in his stomach. It looked like the kind of place where a single sandwich would be big enough to make three meals out of, which was perfect. With two more hours of rehearsal ahead, he had a feeling he was going to need the sustenance.


	4. Chapter 4

_Ha, ha! keep time: how sour sweet music is,_  
_When time is broke and no proportion kept!_  
_So is it in the music of men's lives._  
\- Shakespeare, _King Richard II_ , Act V, Scene 5 

Beckett spent the lunch break in the orchestra's dusty music library, looking through reams of scores, selecting a few pieces for her students to work on. After half an hour she paused to gulp down her sandwich and poke her head into Howard's office, saying hello to his assistant Lois and checking in to see whether there was any new business she should know about. Everything seemed to be moving along smoothly; the well-oiled machinery of the New York Symphony's administrative department was fully prepared for the upcoming performances.

Beckett returned to the library and spent the rest of the break in peaceful silence, studying the music, making notes for herself to follow up on later.

When she began to hear footsteps and multiple voices out in the hallway, she knew it was time to get ready for the chorus rehearsal. She got up and carefully put away all the scores she had taken out, tucked her notebook into her bag, and closed the library door behind her.

"Hey, girl," said Lanie as Kate came onto the stage. "How'd it go this morning with the orchestra?"

"Oh - fine," Beckett replied neutrally. "Everything okay with Javi?"

"Yeah, just normal workplace drama." Lanie rolled her eyes. "Listen, I have to run off to a class right after this, but d'you wanna meet up for a late dinner? That Italian place? Say seven?"

"Sure. Sounds good."

"Great. I'll meet you there." And Lanie went off to take her place among the altos.

* * *

Castle had spent the lunch hour chatting with the elderly couple who ran the deli; the reuben sandwich had been, as he'd expected, enormous, and he ended up with at least a third of it packed away into a styrofoam container for later. He loved these moments of connection with the ordinary people of New York. The deli owners were interesting characters and he filed away some of their stories in the back of his mind for later consideration.

Bidding them a fond farewell, he walked the few blocks back to Symphony Hall and stepped inside. It was pleasantly warm inside the performance hall after the chill of the outdoors. He left his coat on an audience seat and made his way backstage, greeting chorus members as he went.

Coming out of the men's restroom a few minutes later, Castle checked his watch; he had about fifteen minutes until the chorus rehearsal was scheduled to begin, which meant that he really ought to be heading out to the stage now. He glanced around to get his bearings, and started off in what he thought was the right direction. The corridors in the rear of Symphony Hall all looked the same to him.

"Mr. Castle! Rick!" called a voice from behind him, and he paused, turning to see a woman approaching. She was medium-tall, blonde, wearing designer jeans and a filmy emerald-green blouse. She also wore a glossy smile and, when she got to him, clasped both of his hands with both of hers in a too-familiar gesture.

"It's so lovely to see you again," she gushed, as he flicked rapidly through a mental catalog of faces, trying to place her.

Oh god, he hoped it wasn't some drunken one-night stand, ages ago, which she somehow remembered and he didn't. But no, they were at Symphony Hall, and she had the look of - Oh. "It's great to see you too, Annabel," he hazarded, and was rewarded with a widening of her already broad smile as he gently squeezed her hands and let them go. Good, he had identified her correctly; she was the soprano soloist for the Messiah concert. "I'm really looking forward to working with you," he added, giving one of his best fake smiles in response to hers.

"That's so sweet," she simpered, as he tried to recall where or when they had met before. It was probably at some glitzy charity event, he decided, and relaxed a bit.

"I'm sure you're going to be amazing," he told her, laying it on thick as she inched a little closer, throwing back her shoulders. She was clearly inviting him to admire her cleavage, so he did, because why the hell not? "I can't wait to hear you sing _Rejoice Greatly_ ," he added, smirking a little as he slowly dragged his eyes back up to her face.

She was grinning also, enjoying his attention. "I think you'll really like it," she purred, letting her hand fall onto his forearm. She licked her lips, very deliberately, drawing his gaze to her mouth; but suddenly he couldn't help thinking of Kate Beckett and the way she bit her lip, entirely without artifice, and somehow so much more alluring than this woman's very obvious enticements.

Abruptly, the corridor grew quiet as the ambient noise from the nearby stage died down, and Castle could dimly hear a single voice calling instructions.

"So sorry, but I have to go," he told Annabel, faking reluctance, gesturing in the direction of the stage. "It was great to catch up. I'll see you at the rehearsal on Friday?"

"I can't wait," she smiled back, and sashayed off down the hall, swinging her hips, obviously well aware that he was checking out her ass as she went.

He cleared his throat, shook himself a little, and made his way quickly toward the stage door.

By the time Castle found his way back onstage, the chorus had assembled, and Beckett was leading them in some warm-up exercises. A small upright piano had been wheeled onto the stage and Beckett was standing behind it, playing chords to guide the singers' scales and arpeggios.

She paused when she caught sight of Castle approaching, but he shook his head and gestured her to continue. So she took the singers through one last exercise, and then called, "Okay, everyone, shake that out." The chorus members stretched out their arms and legs as Castle came over to put his score down on the nearest music stand.

He and Beckett had already agreed on their plan of attack, so they had no need to confer. She was already flipping the pages on her score as he turned to face the chorus and said, "Number four, please, everyone."

He already knew that Beckett was an excellent violinist, but she turned out to be a skilled accompanist as well. Was there anything she couldn't do? She played the simple piano reduction of the orchestral parts with confidence, adding in the singers' notes when she sensed they were needed. Each time Castle stopped the chorus and asked them to go back, she knew exactly where he wanted to start up again. He was impressed.

In short order they worked their way through the first few choruses, and, after the first hour was up, Castle called a break without needing to be reminded.

"Before you go off, though," he said, "if you have any particular spots you'd like to go over that we didn't get to yesterday, please come up and tell me where they are." So for the fifteen minutes of break, he was surrounded by singers wanting to explain their individual problems with this tricky rhythm or that harmonic transition.

The break time was over before he knew it, and they dove back in. Castle worked his way through the singers' requested spots, running each chorus in its entirety afterward, and before he knew it, the rehearsal time was over.

"Great work, everyone," he said enthusiastically as the singers gulped at their water bottles and put on their coats. "Enjoy your day off tomorrow, and I'll see you on Thursday."

As usual, there was another small crowd of admirers to deal with; Castle was unfailingly polite to all of them, which was a skill born of long practice. He had already sussed out which chorus members were incorrigible busybodies; which were the complainer types who just needed someone to listen to their gripes; and of course, which were the fame-seekers who hoped that some of his luster would rub off on them if they engaged him in conversation long enough. So he kept his smile plastered on and chatted with each of them in turn, until he was able to gently and politely urge them onward.

When he was down to just a few last stragglers surrounding him, he caught sight of Beckett putting on her coat on the audience floor, and with a quick "Excuse me" to his fans, he hurried to the edge of the stage to call down to her. "Beckett, hang on a minute."

She looked up in surprise, but waited while he vaulted lightly off the stage and came over to her. "Smooth moves there, Castle," she teased, quirking the corner of her mouth upward.

"Oh, your attempts to wound me with false compliments will never succeed, Beckett," he tossed off airily. "But tomorrow's a day off, so try not to miss me too much. I know it'll be difficult."

"Somehow I think I'm going to survive," she snorted, shaking her head.

"Listen," he began, more seriously, but they were both stopped in their tracks by the sound of shouting from above their heads.

"What?" he thought Beckett said, but she was mostly drowned out by the loud voices overhead, which reverberated richly in the dome of the performance hall. Castle and Beckett, as well as the last few chorus members who were still on the stage, looked around in confusion, trying to pinpoint the source of the yelling. It was coming from one of the luxury boxes in the upper balcony, Castle realized, and he craned his neck upward, trying to figure out which box, and what was going on up there.

"No!" he heard a voice cry out, laced with spine-chilling fear and desperation. "No! No, I won't! I won't!"

Abruptly, a loud cracking noise rang out, and something came flying over the railing of one of the uppermost luxury boxes. With a sharp twist of horror Castle realized it was a person - a woman. A terrible scream filled the hall as the woman's body plummeted downward, ending in a horrible, sickening thud when it hit the floor beneath.

For a single moment there was absolute silence - shocked, horrified silence. Then one of the chorus members still standing on the stage began to scream, and then another as well.

Castle yanked his wide-eyed stare over to Beckett and saw her staring back at him, appalled. Slowly, she turned, and looked in the direction of the body.

"Oh god, don't," burst from Castle's mouth without conscious volition, before his brain had caught up. But Beckett was already in motion, striding toward the place where the woman - the body - the woman - the place where it had happened.

Automatically, still seemingly without his control, Castle found his legs moving, carrying him along behind Beckett. And in a moment they were standing side by side, looking down at the - at the - at the body.

She lay face-down, completely unmoving. There could be no doubt that she was dead, not with her neck twisted like that. A pool of blood was gathering underneath her left shoulder.

Dimly, Castle could still hear screaming, and now there was also shouting, and the sound of running footsteps. "Oh god, oh god," he heard, and looked over to see a Symphony Hall security guard staring white-faced at the body. The kid looked hardly old enough to shave, let alone wear that uniform and be responsible for the security of a building like this.

"Call 911," Beckett barked sharply, and Castle startled, looking over at her. Her face was starkly pale also, but tensed with determination, even as she couldn't take her eyes off the body. "Call 911, and don't let anyone leave the building," she added, and gave the security guard a shove on the shoulder. "Go. Now."

Gasping, the young man ran off.

Castle followed Beckett's line of sight and found himself looking at the body again, and as his initial shock and horror began to fade, he noticed the dead woman's clothing; he recognized the tight jeans, the loose green blouse. He gasped and took an instinctive step backward.

"Oh shit," fell out of his mouth. "I know her. That's-"

"Annabel Matthews, our soprano soloist," Beckett confirmed with a nod, her voice low and shaky. Her brows drew down, suddenly thoughtful. "But, but what the hell is she even doing here? She wasn't on today's rehearsal schedule."

Castle gaped at her for a moment. Part of his brain was wondering how Beckett managed to stay so calm in this situation, while another part was worrying over the question she had just asked. Why was Annabel here, after all? "I saw her earlier," he blurted out, and Beckett at last pulled her gaze from the lifeless body and fastened it on him, surprised.

"Here? You saw her here?"

"In the corridors backstage," he nodded. "I just talked to her for a moment. It didn't occur to me that it was weird for her to be here."

"What time was that?" Beckett asked, and suddenly seemed to realize how odd the question sounded; she paused, frowned slightly, and added, "That's something they'll want to know. The, the police."

Right. The police. "Um, it was just before we started the chorus rehearsal," he said, trying to remember. "Like 1:45, I guess?"

Focusing on the timing of his encounter with Annabel had momentarily distracted him, but then he glanced over at the body again - remembered her smile and the press of her hand on his arm - and gulped as the bile rose in his throat. "Excuse me," he managed, and dashed for the restroom.

He just barely got there in time, and the delicious sandwich he'd had for lunch ended up in the toilet. Gasping, he flushed it down and staggered over to the sink to rinse out his mouth, then leaned heavily against the wall for a long moment. The cool tile was soothing against his sweaty face.

He closed his eyes and forced himself not to think about what he had seen. But as he got his breathing back under control, it occurred to him that it wasn't the sight of the corpse that had affected him so strongly. It was the fact that she was someone he knew - someone he had just spoken to, flirted with, a few hours ago. It was the surreality of it all, that a living, breathing person could suddenly be ... not. The eternal mystery of death, which had fascinated him for many years, which had drawn him to music in the first place.

He was also queasy at the memory of the awful noise that Annabel's body had made when it hit the floor: the gut-wrenching finality of it all. His brain, always thinking like an artist, couldn't help latching onto the irony: that Annabel's life had been spent making beautiful music, only to end with such an ugly sound. Some part of his mind was deploring what an inappropriate thought that was, even as another part was already hearing the beginnings of a new song he could write on that very topic.

Taking a few deep breaths, he grabbed some paper towels from the dispenser and wiped down his sweaty face and neck. Time to get back out there and try to reclaim some of his dignity.

* * *

When Castle had abruptly bolted from what Beckett was already thinking of as the crime scene, she was briefly left alone with the body; in the background she noted the few remaining chorus members helping each other off the stage, and the bustle of security guards coming in to make note of who was here and wonder what to do.

Beckett had to swallow very carefully a few times, and take some deep breaths, but mostly she was fascinated rather than repulsed by the dead body. She stood still, looking at it, noting some of the details - like the fact that she couldn't see any sign of a wound on Annabel's back, yet the puddle of blood continued to grow slowly underneath her. If the sharp noise they'd heard had been a gunshot, Beckett thought, then there was no exit wound; the bullet must still be inside the body. She fought the urge to reach down and turn Annabel over to see where the entrance wound was.

In short order a pair of EMTs arrived, but of course they took just one look and knew there was nothing for them to do. The police arrived soon after that, and Beckett was shunted to the side while they began their work. She sat down in an audience seat and tried not to look like she was avidly watching the process.

"Ms. Beckett?" This came from a short woman in a power suit, who approached with her hand out. "Detective Victoria Gates, NYPD. Can I ask you some questions about what happened here?"

"Sure." Beckett rose and shook the detective's hand. "Um, but I'm not sure how much help I can be. I didn't really see anything."

"Just establishing the basics to begin with," the cop said, taking out a small notebook and a pencil. "For starters, where were you when it happened?"

"Um, I was right here, over here," Beckett replied, walking over to the spot where she had stood. Detective Gates followed.

"And what were you doing?"

"I was talking to Castle. Richard Castle, our conductor. He's-" Just then the man himself appeared in the door from the hallway. "He's right there."

"Tell me what you heard and saw," Gates said as Castle spotted them and began to walk in their direction.

"Okay," Beckett said, gathering her thoughts. "We were talking, and then we heard yelling. Like an argument, from above."

"Two voices?"

"I think so?" she said cautiously. "Then one of them yelled 'No, I won't!' and then we heard the gunshot - or something that sounded like a gunshot," she corrected herself scrupulously, "and then I guess the body fell. I didn't see it. I was facing the other way."

"I saw it," Castle said, reaching them. "She came from one of the upper balcony boxes." He pointed upward. "The last one on the end there."

Beckett looked Castle up and down. He was a little pale, but otherwise seemed fine. She wanted to ask if he was okay, but it felt awkward in front of the detective.

"You're Mr. Castle?" the cop asked. "Detective Gates." They shook hands. "Anything else you can add?"

"No, I don't think so," he said, "oh, except that Beckett, uh, Ms. Beckett and I were surprised that Annabel was here at all."

"Oh, yes," Beckett chimed in, remembering. "She wasn't on today's rehearsal schedule, so there was no reason for her to be here. It's a little odd."

"Hmm," Gates murmured, making a note. "Was this an open rehearsal?"

"No," Beckett replied, "but the building isn't exactly Fort Knox. People do come in and out a lot."

"I saw Annabel backstage just before the rehearsal," Castle added, "around 1:45. We just spoke briefly. It didn't occur to me until later that it was strange for her to be here."

"What did you talk to her about?" Gates asked. Beckett was interested to notice that Castle's ears turned a little red.

"Uh. Nothing really. Just hi, how are you, looking forward to working with you." The cop didn't speak, just kept her level gaze on Castle, unwavering. It only took a moment for him to break and add, "Uh, she was flirting with me, basically."

"Flirting with you," Gates repeated, in a flat voice that seemed somehow to convey that she found the notion almost incomprehensible. Castle bristled slightly.

"Yeah, I think I know when I'm being flirted with, Detective," he declared. Kate pressed her lips together tightly to hold back a small smile.

Gates frowned slightly, but all she said was, "How did she seem? Nervous, fearful?"

"No, I don't think so." Castle pursed his lips, thought about it. "No, she just seemed, I don't know, normal."

"Did she have a boyfriend? Or any rivals, enemies?" Gates asked, directing the question toward Beckett, who shrugged.

"I'm sorry, I don't know. I really didn't know her that well." Castle shrugged agreement.

"All right." Gates closed her notebook and put it in her pocket. "Thank you both. If you'll give Officer Karpowski your contact info, please, in case we have further questions; and then we're going to need everyone to vacate the building."

"Right," Beckett murmured, "of course."

Moving slowly, she collected her shoulder bag and violin case. The adrenaline that had carried her through the immediate aftermath of the incident was draining out of her body and she felt weak-kneed and trembly, her hands clumsy. It took a few tries to get her coat buttoned up.

When she was ready, she looked up and found Castle standing beside her again, his coat on, his briefcase in hand.

"I've got my car," he said. "Give you a ride home? Or ... or do you want to go get a drink?"

"Yeah," she said with feeling. "A drink sounds great."


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: This chapter contains a brief discussion of suicide.

_Ce qu'on ne peut dire et ce qu'on ne peut taire, la musique l'exprime._  
_(Music expresses that which cannot be said and on which it is impossible to be silent.)_  
-Victor Hugo

Castle stole a glance over at Beckett as he steered his Mercedes out of the Symphony Hall parking garage. She was slumped in the passenger seat, chewing on a fingernail, showing none of the confidence and poise that she had shown while they stood in the performance hall looking at Annabel Matthews' corpse. She looked small, thin, and pale all of a sudden.

In a weird way, he was relieved. It was comforting to know that the indomitable Beckett wasn't as unshaken as she had initially seemed. It made him feel better about his own brief loss of composure.

He drove as quickly as he could in rush-hour traffic, and soon pulled up to a convenient parking meter a few doors down from his favorite bar. "Come on," he said softly to the still-silent Beckett. "I'll buy you a drink."

She startled slightly, then flashed a quick half-smile, reaching to unbuckle her seatbelt. Her violin was safely stowed in the trunk, and she slung her bag onto her shoulder as she climbed out.

Moments later they were settling into a quiet booth in the corner, and Castle ordered scotch for both of them, neat. Beckett's hand shook slightly as she lifted her glass.

"Hey," Castle said quietly. "You okay?"

She blinked, and seemed to come back to herself. "I should be asking you that," she responded, with a slight glint in her eye. "You're the one who had to run for the bathroom."

He shrugged. He wasn't going to feel ashamed for his reaction. He had just witnessed a - Holy shit. "We witnessed a murder," he breathed, feeling the shock of it hit him all over again.

"Yeah. Some witnesses," Beckett scoffed, taking a gulp of her drink. "We didn't see, hear, or know anything at all useful."

"I saw more than enough." He shuddered and took a large sip of his drink as well. "But hey, you were pretty damn composed in there, Beckett. At first you hardly even seemed rattled."

"Well..." She looked away, a little embarrassed. "For a while, in high school, I thought I wanted to be a cop. A homicide detective."

"Really?" Fascinated, Castle leaned forward, his elbows on the table. "You didn't always want to be a musician?"

"Oh, I did, I did. It was just a period of, I don't know, adolescent rebellion. A phase." She gave a self-deprecating shrug. "My dad's a lawyer, so he managed to get me an internship with the NYPD for one semester."

"That's so cool," Castle enthused. "They let you help solve murders?"

"Hardly," she snorted. "That's what I hoped too, but of course they can't be letting seventeen-year-olds hang around crime scenes." She shook her head. "No, it was mostly paperwork, filing and stuff like that. But I did get to spend some time in the morgue, even observed a couple of autopsies."

"Ahh." He nodded. "That explains why you didn't freak out when you saw the ... when you saw her."

"Yeah." Beckett looked away, her eyes unfocusing briefly. When she spoke again, her voice was softer, almost plaintive. "Who would want to kill Annabel? I didn't know her well, but she seemed nice enough. She wasn't one of those divas, the kind everyone talks about and no one likes."

"No. But everyone has secrets." Castle sank back against the booth, pensive. "Everyone makes mistakes, bad choices."

"Like her choice to flirt with you?" Beckett asked, a small grin curling the corners of her mouth. Castle huffed a little.

"I prefer to think of that as demonstrating excellent judgment and taste. And you don't have to be jealous, Beckett. It was just a little harmless chatting."

"Jealous!" she exclaimed, then caught the twinkle in his eye and subsided, giving him a shake of her head and simultaneous eye-roll. "Dream on, Castle."

He smirked, but then thought again of Annabel, who would never flirt with anyone again, and he dropped his eyes to the table surface. He was quiet for a moment, contemplating it all.

"I was going to be a mystery writer, you know," he murmured, almost to himself.

"Really?" Beckett raised her eyebrows in surprise.

"Yeah. My first couple of operas, I originally wrote them as mystery novels. Never quite got up the nerve to submit them for publication, but after I started composing music, I realized that my novels would make great musical theater." He picked up his almost-empty glass and stared into it. "Always was fascinated by death, mysteries, the things that make people kill each other."

"Hmm." Beckett ate a few peanuts from the bowl on the table. "That makes sense, actually. Opera plots and murder mysteries do have a lot in common."

"Exactly," he nodded. "Death, betrayal, secrets. Drama."

There was silence between them for a few moments, perhaps both thinking about what kinds of secrets and drama in Annabel's life might have led to this.

"What I'm wondering," Beckett mused after a moment, "is what Annabel was doing there between when you saw her and when..." She trailed off briefly, then picked up again. "That was more than two hours. What was she doing all that time?"

"I don't know." Castle drained the last few drops from his glass, thinking about it. Now that Beckett had mentioned it, he was curious too. It didn't seem to make sense. "Maybe someone else saw her. A chorus member?"

"Maybe, but there are a hundred and fifty people in the chorus, Castle. Do you think the police will interview all of them?"

"Probably not." He pursed his lips, pondering, watching as Beckett lifted her own glass and scowled when she found it empty. "Another drink?"

"Yeah." But then she blinked, sat up a little straighter, and amended, "No, I shouldn't. One was enough." She tapped the back of his hand with her forefinger. "You shouldn't either. Driving."

"Right," he nodded, sighing as common sense asserted itself. "Of course, you're right. I should be getting home. I'll have to tell Alexis something." The idea was sobering. Shit, how was one supposed to tell one's child about witnessing a murder?

"Your daughter?" Beckett was looking at him curiously. "How old is she?"

"Fifteen." He shook his head slowly. "I just wish I could keep her from knowing about this kind of thing. All the ugliness out there in the world."

"You can't shelter her from reality, Castle." Beckett sighed. "Eventually, we all have to face up to it."

"I guess." He took a deep breath, blew it out, then pulled out his wallet and tossed some money onto the table. "I'll give you a ride home."

"That's okay, I-" Suddenly Beckett gasped. "Oh, shit. I'm supposed to be meeting Lanie for dinner in," she looked at her watch, "half an hour." She pulled her lower lip between her teeth. "I can make it if I get a cab."

"I could drop you off-"

"No, no." She waved that away. "You should get home to your kid."

So they went back out to Castle's car and Beckett retrieved her violin from the trunk while Castle hailed a cab for her.

"Good luck with your daughter," Beckett said, a little awkwardly, standing in the open door of the taxi.

"Thanks. Uh, have a nice day off?"

It felt very strange to Castle, to be exchanging goodnights with Beckett as if it were any other evening; as if they hadn't witnessed the ending of a life. A flash of understanding in Beckett's eyes told him that she felt the same. But what else was there to do? Life goes on.

"Night, Castle."

"Goodnight, Beckett."

* * *

A short while later Castle was sitting on his sofa, another glass of whiskey in his hand, with his mother on one side and his daughter on the other, both murmuring in surprise. He had told them the bare bones of what had happened, not wanting to go into too much detail.

"It's just unbelievable," Martha fussed, "like something out of a movie. Are you sure you're all right, darling?"

"I'm fine, Mother," he said, not for the first time, and closed his eyes briefly. His body felt heavy and sluggish, which he knew was from the aftereffects of the long day and then the shock of the murder. "It was upsetting, but I'm okay." Shaking his head, he muttered to himself, "Can't believe how cool and collected Beckett was. Barely a blink."

"Who's Beckett?" Alexis asked, snuggling in against his side. He gave her a squeeze.

"Kate Beckett, the concertmaster," he answered, distractedly, his thoughts whirling. "I was talking to her when it happened. She went right over to look at the," he would have to start getting used to saying it, "the body. Not even a moment of hesitation. Didn't show any reaction until we were on our way to the bar."

"You went to a bar afterward?" Martha asked, and he almost missed the glance that passed between the two redheads. But he caught it, and sat up a little straighter.

"Oh, hey, listen, Beckett and I just went to grab a quick drink to deal with what we saw, okay? Let's not make a big thing out of it." But even as he spoke, he knew he was doing nothing toward putting them off the trail.

"Uh-huh," Alexis said skeptically, and Martha was trying unsuccessfully to hide a smile.

"So, Richard, tell us about this young woman, then. She plays the violin?"

"Yeah," he sighed, resigning himself to the conversation. "She's the first violinist, concertmaster, and pretty much the boss of everyone." He looked over at Martha. "Her mother was Johanna Beckett, the singer, you remember her?"

"Oh yes, of course." Martha's face lit up with recognition. "What a glorious voice that gal had. I remember seeing her in _Turandot_..." She trailed off, and Castle knew she was remembering the rest of it. "Oh, dear. Didn't she, uh," and she paused, looking over at Alexis.

"Yes, Mother," he cut in, "she committed suicide. About ten years ago."

"She killed herself?" Alexis asked, pulling back a little to look at his face. "And now you're working with her daughter? How old was she then?"

"Uh, let me think..." He didn't know exactly how old Beckett was now, but from what he knew of her schooling, he could make an educated guess. "I guess she must have been still a teenager, probably about nineteen, because she was in her second year of college."

"Wow. That must have been awful for her," Alexis mused, her face falling. "Why would someone kill themselves if they had a kid? Even if she was nineteen, she still needed her mom."

Castle's heart twisted painfully. Of all the things he had expected to upset Alexis tonight, the thought of her reaction to Beckett's mother's death hadn't even occurred to him. "Oh, pumpkin." He pulled his daughter in tightly. "I don't know for sure, sweetie, but she must have been very depressed. A person doesn't do something like that lightly. She probably thought there was no other way to deal with her feelings. It can seem that way, sometimes, to a person who's depressed."

"If memory serves," Martha put in softly, "I seem to recall she had been diagnosed with cancer of some kind."

"That's awful," said Alexis into Castle's chest, "but it's no excuse. A parent should be stronger than that."

"Mm," Castle murmured. He knew it wasn't that simple, but he hated the idea of his little girl dwelling on such a sad topic. He squeezed her tighter and kissed the top of her head.

"Oh, darlings," said Martha gently. "So much maudlin tonight. Let's say 'enough, enough,' and be thankful for each other. Yes?"

Castle lifted his other arm and put it around his mother's shoulders. "Well said, Mother. Maybe some ice cream?"

* * *

By the time Beckett got to the Italian restaurant where she had agreed to meet Lanie, the gossip mill had done its work. "Oh my god, Kate, are you okay?" were her friend's first words as she walked up to their table, and Lanie jumped up from her chair to give Kate a hug.

"Yeah, I'm all right," she promised, hugging Lanie back, then pulling away to take off her coat and sit down. "What have you heard?"

"Only that someone shot up the whole place and killed Annabel," Lanie said, lowering her voice to a discreet volume, "and you and Castle nearly got brained by her on the way down."

"Ugh, that part's not true at all," Kate denied, signaling to the waiter. "I need wine. Lots of wine. A bottle of Cabernet to start with, please."

Over wine and appetizers, she told Lanie about the incident, including the aftermath. "And then the cops kicked us all out so they could go over the place with forensics and all that," she concluded. "So I went to grab a drink with Castle." Oops. As soon as the words were out, she knew she had made a mistake. Lanie's eyes were widening in a combination of amazement and delight.

"Girl…"

"Oh god, Lanie, don't start."

"Please. Like I'm gonna let you off the hook that easily? I heard you and the Maestro were cozied up in Starbucks this morning too."

"We were not 'cozied up,' we were going over the music and making a plan for the rehearsals," Kate sighed, exasperated. She lifted her menu in front of her face, but Lanie reached out and pulled it away.

"Don't hide from me. And don't pretend like you're planning to order anything other than your usual," she smirked, and, turning to the waiter, quickly ordered for both of them. As soon as he was gone, Lanie turned back to Kate with a determined gleam in her eye.

"Seriously, spill."

"Seriously, Lane, there's nothing to spill. We met at Starbucks to look at the music. He hasn't conducted this kind of thing before and wanted my input."

"Uh-huh." Her friend's nod was as skeptical as a nod could possibly be. "And then you went out for drinks, but that was nothing too, right?"

"Yes! I mean, no. I mean..." Kate huffed and took a large gulp of her wine. "We were both shaken up by seeing what happened to Annabel, so we had a drink together. One drink. Nothing remarkable about that."

"Oh, sure. Nothing remarkable at all," Lanie snickered. "I suppose you'll try to tell me there's nothing remarkable about the way he's been looking at you, either."

"You're out of your mind," Kate mumbled, burying her face in her glass. The way Castle looked at her? What did that mean?

"Girl, don't tell me you didn't notice. He kept flashing you these looks during the rehearsal. Like…" Lanie pondered for a moment, then her lips curved upward in a wicked grin. "Like he's Frederic and you're Mabel."

Kate nearly choked on her wine, laughing and coughing at the same time. " _Pirates of Penzance_? Seriously? So you're calling him a pirate?" Castle would probably love that, she thought ruefully.

Lanie chuckled and shook her head. "Don't be obtuse, Kate. You know what I mean."

Kate's smile faded as she took in her friend's words. "That's crazy, Lanie. We hardly know each other, and it's just for work." But she thought about Castle calling her old teachers to find out about her, and the questions he had asked, and the way they'd talked over their glasses of scotch, sharing little details about their life paths.

No. It was all in Lanie's head; it had to be. "It's all in your head," she said aloud, and looked up to find her friend studying her with a knowing expression.

"It's not, and you know it." Lanie pointed her fork at Kate. "The guy likes you, Kate, and you like him. And you haven't let any guy get close in way too long."

Kate squirmed in her seat. "I have a busy life," she protested weakly.

"I know you do, but girl, he's right there. You should take him for a ride. Why not? We know he's good with his hands." She smirked suggestively. Kate blushed.

"Really? I hadn't noticed," she said toward her risotto, and Lanie laughed out loud.

"Sure you hadn't. You keep telling yourself that. Now let's eat."

* * *

A large bowl of ice cream with his mother and daughter went a long way toward helping Castle start to feel normal again. But he hadn't come close to finishing the dessert before his mind drifted. He was hearing again the strains of melody that had begun to come into his head in the bathroom earlier: the song about the mysteries of death, about the irony of a musical life ending in harsh noise.

As the details began to come together in his mind, he realized that he wasn't hearing just a song, but an entire scene. He pictured the woman singing the song, and she had a flashlight in her hand. She was walking along a dark, deserted alley in a city, late at night. As she walked, and sang, she was shining the flashlight into every corner and nook and cranny of the alleyway. She kicked aside a stray garbage can - cymbals clashed - and lifted the lid of a dumpster - the whine of a saxophone would approximate the creaking of the hinges.

Castle wasn't sure what the woman was looking for, yet, but he knew better than to let himself get distracted by elusive details when the inspiration was flowing. He would come back to that. For the moment, he just watched in his mind's eye as the woman walked and sang and looked. Then emotion overtook her and she sank to her knees in the dirty alleyway as the song came to its climax.

Castle played a few notes of the song on his piano, and quickly seized a pencil, scribbling notes and lyrics across the fresh sheet of score paper on the piano's music stand. His melting ice cream was forgotten; he hadn't even noticed Alexis tugging him off his kitchen stool and steering him to the piano, or Martha setting out the paper and pencil. The women withdrew, leaving him to his creative haze.

When he finally emerged, several pages were full of musical notation, and the loft was in shadow. The dishes had been washed and put away; the upstairs, where his mother and daughter had their bedrooms, was dark and silent. Castle stumbled groggily to the bathroom, quickly washed up, undressed, and fell into bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: To elucidate the Pirates of Penzance reference: Frederic has only ever seen one woman, who is his nursemaid; he believes her to be beautiful - until he sees Mabel and her sisters, and realizes that until now he has never known what female beauty truly is.


	6. Chapter 6

_Life is for the living._  
_Death is for the dead._  
_Let life be like music._  
_And death a note unsaid._  
-Langston Hughes 

Beckett woke the next morning with a mild hangover, her thoughts buzzing. As the initial shock of yesterday's events faded, her practical brain was starting to enumerate all the complications that would have to be dealt with. For example, would the police clear the crime scene in time for tomorrow's rehearsals? Would the orchestra and chorus members be able to put aside the tragedy and continue with the work of making music? Would Howard and the rest of the orchestra's administrators be able to find a new soprano soloist on such short notice?

At the thought of Howard, she suddenly remembered the loud argument she'd heard coming from his office on Monday. Hadn't Lois said that it was something to do with Annabel? Beckett mulled that over while she was showering, moisturizing, putting on her bathrobe, and making breakfast in her small kitchen.

She settled down at the table with a plate of food and a cup of coffee and the morning newspaper, but she couldn't sit still. After reading the article on Annabel's death - it was short on details, long on speculation and sensationalism - she got up again, leaving her food half-eaten, and went to get dressed.

Today was a day off, and she had planned to spend it sitting around her apartment, having a quiet lazy morning, then an hour or two of violin practice and a tutoring session in the afternoon, and an evening of relaxing in front of the TV. But after everything that had happened yesterday, the idea of staying home all day had lost its appeal. She felt a need to be in motion.

She finished her breakfast in a rush while putting on her shoes, then grabbed her shoulder bag and headed out.

Approaching Symphony Hall, she was initially startled to see a crowd of news vans, reporters, and camera operators occupying the sidewalk in front of the stately old building. Pausing a block away, she chewed her lower lip and debated what to do. She had no desire at all to be accosted by paparazzi - especially if they got wind of the fact that she'd actually been there at the time of Annabel's death.

She decided to go around to a different entrance. As she strode along the sidewalk, she noticed that there were two security guards standing outside the front door - an almost unheard-of occurrence on a non-concert day.

Around the corner, there was a smaller side door that was generally only used as an exit. It was often unlocked, but today it was not only locked but guarded - from the inside - by another security guard. Luckily, he recognized Beckett and opened the door for her.

"Morning, Kate."

"Morning, Kevin. Crazy day, huh?"

"You can say that again. Haven't seen this much press since Sir Paul was here. Shame about that poor lady."

"Yeah."

Kate made her way through the wide corridors to Howard's office suite and knocked briefly, poking her head in. "Morning, Lois."

"Oh, good morning, Kate." Lois looked much more flustered than usual. "It's just chaos around here, unbelievable. Phone's ringing off the hook."

"Anything I can do?" Kate glanced toward the inner door that led to Howard's own office. "Is he in?"

"No." Lois frowned and twisted her lips. "The board of directors called an emergency meeting, so I assume that's where he is, but I haven't actually heard from him all morning."

"That's weird." Kate lowered her voice. "Listen, about that argument that he had with Annabel the other day…"

"Oh. I told the police about that. I did." Lois looked almost embarrassed. "Maybe I shouldn't have?"

"No, no. It's important information for them to have. They need the whole picture." Kate thought for a minute. "Were you here when it happened? And Howard?"

"I was, but I didn't hear or see anything. The door was closed," Lois nodded to the door Kate was currently bracing open with her hip, "and I was on the phone, so I had no idea. I already told the police that." She paused. "Howard ... he had left a few minutes earlier, and he didn't answer his cell when I called him after ... after ... well, when the police got here. So, I don't know."

"I see," Kate mused. "Okay, well, I'm here if you need anything. Are the police still here? I don't want to get in their way. I'll just be in the library."

"No, they cleared out and said it's fine to use the stage again," Lois replied. "Thanks for coming by, Kate. I'll find you if anything comes up."

Kate turned to step back out the door, and nearly collided with Castle in the hallway. "Whoa!" he exclaimed. "Sorry. Sorry."

"Castle, what are you - Were you eavesdropping?" she demanded.

"I was standing in the hallway," he replied evasively. "I couldn't help hearing a thing or two."

"Why are you even here?" she asked suspiciously, narrowing her eyes, as she pulled the door to Howard's suite shut behind her. Castle put on an innocent expression.

"I just wanted to familiarize myself with the performance hall, you know, the acoustics, that kind of thing. Really get a feel for where I'll be conducting."

Pursing her lips, Beckett reached out and took hold of his ear. When she gave it a firm twist, he yelped and grabbed for her hand, trying to pull away from her grasp.

"Ow, ow! Let go! Okay, I wanted to look around at the crime scene, geez, let go."

She released him, but kept her stern glare in place. "You're trying to investigate, aren't you? Write a couple of mysteries and suddenly you think you're a detective."

"No," he denied, but weakly. "Well, I just, I don't know, I was just curious." He rubbed his ear and sulked at her. "Come on, tell me you're not curious too, Miss I-wanted-to-be-a-cop."

Beckett opened her mouth on a retort, but Castle kept talking. "So do you think Howard did it?" he asked, lowering his voice with a glance toward the office door. "I wouldn't put it past him. That guy's got a temper, from what I hear."

She folded her arms across her chest and frowned. "Seriously? You think Howard killed Annabel over a contract dispute?"

"It could happen," he replied, unfazed by her demeanor. "If the dispute was about money, especially. Everyone knows that the arts are hard to fund these days, and Howard's under a lot of pressure to keep costs down. Maybe Annabel tried to squeeze more cash out of him and he snapped."

Beckett was shaking her head. "I don't know, Castle. It's hard to think of Howard as a murderer. He just doesn't seem like the type."

"Beckett, come on. How many times have you turned on the news and there's some guy who shot a bunch of people, and everyone who knew him says 'He just didn't seem like the type'?"

She pursed her lips, searching for a response, but just then her cell phone rang. "Don't go anywhere," she snapped at Castle as she dug the phone out of her purse. "I'm keeping my eye on you." She glanced down at the screen; the caller ID showed Lanie's name. "Hey, Lanie," she said into the phone.

"Hey, Kate. Listen, I'm just running into a class, but I remembered something about yesterday. About Annabel."

"About Annabel? But you were gone by the time it happened," Beckett said, turning her body a half turn away from Castle. He came up closer to her anyway, and when she tried to step away, he followed, putting his ear near hers so he could hear the conversation. She glared at him.

"Yeah," said Lanie, "but before that, I saw her. I went to the restroom, maybe half an hour before the end of the rehearsal, and I saw Annabel in a dark corner with Brett Donovan."

"The tenor soloist?"

"Yep." Lanie sounded rushed. "I only got a quick look, but Kate, they were arguing and it was pretty intense. It looked like a lovers' quarrel, to be honest."

Kate raised her eyebrows. "Really." She chewed it over for a moment. While she was thinking, she snaked her other arm around Castle's back - he was still standing far too close - and grabbed his other ear. His mouth opened in a silent gape of pain and he flailed at her hand, twisting his body away from hers.

"Lanie, you should call the police and tell them that," she said into the phone, releasing Castle's ear. "It could be a clue."

"I will," her friend agreed, "but it'll have to wait till after my class. I really gotta run, talk to you later." And she hung up.

"Huh," Beckett said to herself, frowning a little as she put her phone back in her purse.

"So, Annabel was involved with the tenor soloist?" said Castle, rubbing his ear and wincing. "Very interesting. Maybe they had a spat and he killed her."

"Castle," she said sharply, but he wasn't finished.

"Hey, do you think that's why she was here? To meet up with Brett? He wasn't on yesterday's rehearsal schedule either, after all."

Beckett paused, and bit her lower lip. It was true: Brett's presence here yesterday was just as strange as Annabel's. After a moment of thought, she reopened the door to Howard's office suite.

"Hey, Lois? Brett Donovan wasn't supposed to be rehearsing here yesterday, was he?"

"Brett? No," Lois replied, looking confused. "He specifically said he couldn't rehearse until Friday because he and his wife are packing up to move to a new apartment."

"His wife?" Beckett repeated. "He's married? Are you sure?"

"Yes, quite sure, why?"

"Um, no reason. Thanks." Beckett closed the door again and resumed glaring at Castle. He just grinned gleefully.

"This is getting better all the time," he exclaimed. "Now we've got Annabel in a hot clinch with a married man. What was it we were saying last night about secrets and drama?"

"This is none of our business, Castle. The police are investigating," she said sternly.

"Oh, sure. But it can't hurt for us to look around." He bounced on his toes a couple of times. "I've gotta get a look at that luxury box." And he took off down the hall. Beckett sighed loudly and rolled her eyes. She couldn't believe she was actually going to do this.

"Castle!" she barked, so commandingly that he stopped in mid-stride and turned to look at her. "The stairs are over here."

He grinned sheepishly and loped back toward her.

"We shouldn't be doing this," Beckett said yet again, a few minutes later, as they climbed the stairs toward the upper balcony boxes. "We aren't the police. We shouldn't be interfering with their investigation."

"We're not interfering," Castle objected. "They have all the same information that we have, and if we find out anything new, we'll tell them. We're just looking around - perfectly harmless."

Beckett pursed her lips and scowled, but couldn't come up with a response to that.

The upper-level luxury box from which Annabel had fallen was pristine; after the police had finished their evidence-collection work, a cleaning crew had come through and wiped everything away - dirt, blood, fingerprint dust, and all. Kate imagined that there could have been dozens, even hundreds of different fingerprints in here. The NYPD's forensics team would have a difficult time narrowing them all down.

Stepping down the shallow stairs to the front-row balcony seats, she peered cautiously over the low railing. The performance hall was spread out below, still and silent now, dimly lit. In the darkness, the spot where Annabel's body had fallen looked unremarkable, just a hint of discoloration showing on the hardwood floors where the blood had been scrubbed away.

When Castle spoke into Beckett's ear from directly behind her, she startled badly, gasping. "From here you can see everything," he said. "If they'd been standing this far down, we would have seen them."

Kate took a moment to calm her racing heartbeat, and then nodded agreement. From this vantage point she could easily see the spot where she and Castle had been standing last night when it happened. "Yeah, they must have been farther back."

Castle backed away and returned to the small vestibule of the private box, a rectangle of open space above and behind the seats, framed by heavy velvet curtains on both sides. Beckett stepped up the stairs and joined him in the small space, looking around. From here, she noticed, she couldn't see the audience floor at all, nor most of the stage.

"This would be a great place for a romantic liaison," Castle commented, grinning a little. "I bet they snuck up here for a little fun and then things turned sour."

"Why would they come all the way up here?" Beckett asked skeptically. "Why not the lower balconies, or there must be a dozen other places in Symphony Hall if they were looking to…" she trailed off, embarrassed.

"Oh, come on, Beckett. This is the best, up here," Castle exclaimed, his eyes sparkling. "The height, making you feel above it all. The thrill of exhibitionism, the need to be quiet, the risk of getting caught."

She stared at him, her mouth suddenly dry. Her heartbeat had sped up again, completely beyond her control.

"They came up here," Castle went on, lowering his voice to a husky growl that sent tingles down her spine. "They looked around." He matched his actions to the words, looking around the small space with exaggerated care. "Oh, look - this little nook right here, behind the curtain." He seized Beckett's arm and pulled her over to the side of the booth. The wall was slightly recessed there, creating a small cocoon of space, with the velvet curtain partially shielding it from the concert hall.

Her arm tingled at the point of contact where Castle had grasped it. Her pulse pounded loudly in her ears.

"He pulled her over here," Castle said, low, pushing Beckett back against the wall. "She probably giggled. Maybe she said 'oh, we shouldn't, not here,' and he said 'don't you want me?'" He looked directly into Beckett's eyes on the last words, and she shivered, pressing herself more firmly into the hidden nook. The air suddenly seemed heavy, her chest stuttering as she struggled to breathe evenly. The heat of Castle's body, so close to hers, suffused her. What was she doing? What was he doing to her?

Castle cleared his throat, but when he resumed speaking, his voice was still hoarse.

"Then he kissed her," he almost whispered, his blue eyes holding hers. Beckett was frozen on the spot, captivated by his gaze and the spell of his words.

But she blinked hard and forced her way out of it. "And then he killed her?" she challenged, bringing one hand up to Castle's chest and shoving him away. "Why would he do that if he was about to get lucky?" She pulled her hand back, stepped carefully around him and away, refusing to let her mind linger on the feel of his hard muscles under her fingertips.

Castle scowled theatrically, his eyes flashing hot. "Don't ruin my story with your logic. Beckett, come on, it's a good theory." He turned his head to look toward the performance hall. "They came up here to make out, or whatever, and then they started to argue."

Beckett paused to consider. It was one possible scenario, she had to admit. "Maybe she threatened to tell his wife about the affair," she offered, conciliatory. Castle nodded eagerly.

"Maybe she tried to get him to leave his wife and he refused," he suggested.

"So they fight. Quietly at first," she went on, warming to the story, "but they get more upset; they start yelling."

"It reaches the point where we can hear it from below," Castle put in. Beckett nodded.

"Maybe he's breaking up with her. He tells her that it's over." Now it was Castle's turn to nod as she spoke. He picked up the thread again.

"She refuses to accept it," he added, his words coming faster as he evoked the urgency of the scene. "She tries to convince him not to break it off. He tells her she needs to just let it go, find someone else."

"Yes," Beckett exclaimed. "But she doesn't want anyone else. She just wants him." She paused, a little breathless, her skin tingling under Castle's heated look. "So she says 'no, I won't,' and then-"

"-he gets desperate, pulls out the gun and shoots her," Castle finished. They both stopped and stared at each other, panting. Beckett's skin was buzzing with excitement; the phrase "thrill of the chase" floated through her mind. It was oddly exhilarating, putting together this theory with Castle, their minds working in sync.

But reality intruded on her thoughts an instant later. "But where did the gun come from?" she asked, deflating. "And why did he even have it with him? Did he come here intending to kill her?"

Castle frowned, and sagged against the wall. "Yeah, that part doesn't really make sense, I guess."

"It's a good theory, Castle," she said, a little apologetically, starting toward the door, "but there are just so many open questions. Like, if she was having an affair with Brett, why did she come on to you?"

"Maybe she just couldn't resist my ruggedly handsome charm," he answered, following her out the door. They started back down the stairs, matching their strides as she scoffed and shook her head.

"I don't know, Castle. Brett's pretty charming himself."

"Beckett. I'm deeply hurt." She rolled her eyes.

"I think your ego can take it," she shot back as they emerged back into the corridor on the main floor. "And anyway, why would Annabel and Brett come here for a ... liaison? Why Symphony Hall, of all places? If they just wanted to hook up, they could have met anywhere."

Castle frowned and didn't answer, but turned toward the door that let out onto the stage.

"Where are you going?"

"I just wanna-" But he stopped halfway through the door, looking. Beckett stepped up behind him to see what he had spotted.

Standing at the edge of the darkened stage, staring out into the empty audience, they saw the figure of a man. With a start, Beckett realized that it was Howard Grainger.


	7. Chapter 7

_One good thing about music, when it hits you, you feel no pain._  
-Bob Marley

"Howard?" Beckett said, pushing past Castle to step out onto the stage. Howard jumped a little and turned, relaxing when he saw her.

"Oh. Kate. You surprised me." He gestured out into the air of the performance space, looking a little sheepish. "I just, uh, came to take a moment, you know? Such a sad business, such a tragedy."

He was back into public-relations mode by the end of his sentence, Beckett noticed. "Yes, very sad," she agreed, studying him.

While she was still debating how - or whether - to bring up the subject of Howard's recent arguments with Annabel, Castle jumped right in.

"So, Howard, we heard that you'd been having some kind of disagreement with Annabel the other day," he said, and Beckett groaned a little, rolling her eyes at Castle's complete lack of subtlety.

But, to her surprise, Howard didn't take offense. "Yes, that's true," he nodded, meeting both of their eyes in turn. "Annabel had requested some changes to her contract, and I wasn't too pleased. We had gone over the contract in detail before she signed it, after all."

"What would make her want to change it, then?" Castle asked. Howard shook his head.

"I'm sorry, Maestro, but the details are confidential, as I'm sure you can understand."

"Oh," Castle said, looking surprised and a little embarrassed. "Of course. I'm sorry, I should have realized."

"Don't worry about it. In any case, I've given all the pertinent information to the police, and they'll decide what to make of it," Howard said. "As for you two, you should put some thought into how we might rearrange the concert if we don't have a soprano soloist. The board members and I will be making phone calls today and tomorrow, but of course it's a busy time of year and most singers are already booked. It'll be difficult to find a qualified soprano on such short notice." He sighed and scrubbed his hand over his face.

"Right, of course," Beckett agreed, remembering that the same thought had gone through her mind that morning. "We'll have to look at the program and see what we can do. Maybe add another chorus to pad it out?"

"We're in negotiations with Chloe Palmer, the alto soloist, to do the alto versions of _He Shall Feed His Flock_ and _How Beautiful Are The Feet_ ," Howard said.

"That could work," Beckett agreed, but she felt her face falling as she added, "but we'd still have to cut out _Rejoice Greatly_."

"Yeah," Castle put in, "and Annabel was also planning to do _I Know That My Redeemer Liveth_."

"That one isn't very Christmassy, anyway," Howard shrugged. "Every year I get board members asking me why we still include it."

"Drama," Castle proclaimed, a little grandiosely. "Worms eating your body, the end of the world? Come on, that's good stuff."

"For Easter, sure," Howard retorted. "At Christmas, we generally prefer not to sing about death."

Beckett wasn't really listening. She had wandered over to the piano and absent-mindedly started playing the opening measures of _Rejoice Greatly_. Lost in thought, she hardly noticed Howard leaving, and only jolted out of it when Castle appeared beside the piano.

"It doesn't seem right to do _Messiah_ without _Rejoice Greatly_ ," he said, studying her. She nodded slowly, wondering how he had read her mind again.

"Yeah, well, hopefully they'll find another soprano."

She stepped away from the piano and they started toward the stage door.

"Howard could have done it," Castle said, low-voiced, as they walked. Beckett blinked, turned to look at him.

"What? Now you're back onto thinking Howard killed Annabel? What happened to Brett?"

"Oh, I haven't given up on him," Castle grinned, "but it's always important to consider all the possibilities, don't you think? And Howard doesn't have an alibi."

"You asked him for his alibi?" Beckett exclaimed, slightly horrified. Castle just chuckled.

"Well, I mean, not as such. I just said, 'so where were you when...?'"

She continued to stare at him as he held the stage door for her. Emerging into the hall again, she finally gave in and demanded, "So? Where was he?"

"Says he was stuck in traffic in his car, and his cell phone battery ran out," Castle replied smugly. "How's that for a crappy excuse for an alibi?"

"It's probably true, though, Castle. I mean, come on. You saw how frustrated he was about having to find a new soprano. Why would he kill her and bring that hassle on himself?"

"Murder isn't always logical, Beckett."

She groaned. "Oh, you just have an answer for everything."

"Not quite everything," Castle commented, looking thoughtful. "We still haven't really figured out why Annabel was here in the first place."

Just as he spoke, the door to the nearby men's room opened and the security guard who had let Kate into the building earlier emerged.

"I can answer that," he said, and both Beckett and Castle jumped guiltily, wondering if he had seen them poking around.

"Oh - Kevin, I didn't see you there," Beckett said a little nervously. "Uh, have you met Maestro Castle? Castle, Kevin Ryan, security."

"Pleasure," Castle said smoothly, reaching out for a handshake. "I don't think I saw you here yesterday."

"No, I went off shift just before all the excitement," Kevin replied. "But I was here earlier and I did see Miss Matthews meeting with that lawyer. I figured that was why she came."

"Lawyer?" Beckett repeated, her radar going up. "What lawyer?"

"Yeah, some guy in the chorus. He specializes in contract law. I know because Bruce, one of the other security guards, he had some kind of insurance contract problem last year and this same guy helped him out."

"A contract lawyer, huh?" Castle asked, giving Beckett a meaningful look. She tried to ignore it, focusing on Kevin.

"Do you know his name?"

The guard shook his head. "Sorry. Bruce would know, of course, but he's off today."

"Well, the guy has to be either a tenor or a bass," Castle put in. "Can you describe him?"

"Uh, he's an older black guy," Kevin said, "maybe sixty, about your height, gray hair, skinny face, always wears jeans."

"I think I know who you mean," Beckett said slowly. "He's a bass. His name is Daniel." She searched her memory. "Daniel ... I can't remember his last name."

"Sorry I can't be more help," Kevin offered, but she shook her head and gave him a warm smile.

"No, you've been very helpful, Kevin. You should call Detective Gates and tell her this, too."

"Okay." He nodded. "I'll do that after my shift. I gotta get back to it." And he walked off down the hall.

"This is getting more and more interesting," Castle hissed into Beckett's ear. "First Annabel argues with Howard about her contract, then she meets with a contract lawyer, and then she gets murdered. Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"If you're thinking that it makes Howard look even more suspicious, then no," Beckett replied firmly, but quietly. "I still can't see it. But I do wonder what Annabel was talking to the lawyer about."

"Well, let's call him and ask," Castle suggested eagerly. "I bet Lois can tell you his full name and where he works."

"Castle," she groaned, rolling her eyes. "Are you still trying to investigate this case? Need I remind you that you're not a police detective?"

"I know, I know," he said, following her down the hall, "but how many fantastic mystery books are there where the main character is an ordinary citizen who solves crimes?"

"That's _fiction_ , Castle. Here in the real world, the police do that job, and you and I have our own jobs to do." She jabbed a finger at him. "Which, by the way, I am trying to get back to, and so should you."

"I will. I will!" he protested at her skeptical look. "Right after we ask Lois for that lawyer's name and phone number."

Beckett scowled, folding her arms across her chest and glaring at him. But she had to admit, if not aloud, that wondering about Annabel's meeting with the lawyer was going to bother her all day. "Fine," she sighed at last, "but we are not interrogating people, okay? We don't have any standing at all."

"No problem. I'll deal with that when the time comes," Castle said, which didn't instill a lot of confidence in her. She gave him another glare for good measure and opened the door.

But Lois wasn't at her desk, and the inner door leading to Howard's office was closed. "Hmm. She must have stepped out," Beckett muttered.

"Check the ladies' room," Castle urged.

She rolled her eyes. "For heaven's sake. No, I'm not going to go chasing after Lois. You can check back here later." She closed the door again. "Since I'm here, I have some work to do in the library. And you should go..." she waved a hand vaguely, "do whatever it is you do with your days."

"Fine," Castle retorted, "but I'm not finished with this. I have a lot more questions."

"Impersonating a police officer is a felony," Beckett called after him as he strode away down the hall. He didn't respond.

Beckett shook her head and headed off toward the orchestra library.

* * *

Castle wandered all around Symphony Hall, hoping for some kind of inspiration to strike. He prowled the labyrinthine corridors, seeing nothing and no one; got lost, wandered some more, and eventually found his way back to the stage door. He went out onto the audience floor and looked at the spot where Annabel had fallen. Then he climbed the stairs to the balcony box again and looked down, thinking about Annabel up here arguing with someone, not knowing that it was the last argument she would ever have.

He thought about the flash of Beckett's eyes when he had pushed her against the wall, spinning his story of a lovers' tryst way up here in the private box. He was pretty sure that the heat of the moment had affected Beckett the same way it had him, but she had fought it off.

He leaned against the wall and lost himself briefly in a tangle of thoughts about Kate Beckett. God, she was hot, and smart, and deliciously bossy, and it had been so much fun working out potential murder scenarios with her. She would have made a great cop. Of course, she also made a great musician.

He tore himself out of his reverie and went back down the stairs.

Approaching the orchestra's library, he heard music from behind the door, which stood just slightly ajar. He recognized the tune; it was Rejoice Greatly.

At first he thought it was a recording, and was briefly surprised by the thought that the symphony's library would have recordings as well as sheet music. But then he realized that there was no orchestra playing, just the voice singing; and, peeking through the crack in the doorway, he discovered that it was Beckett, singing quietly to herself as she flipped through the pages of a violin score.

"O daughter of Jerusalem," she sang, "behold, thy King cometh unto thee."

Castle stood in the hallway, transfixed. Beckett's voice was possibly the most beautiful soprano he had ever heard. It was clear and pure, with just a touch of vibrato. She knew the piece by heart, and her voice floated effortlessly over the runs and decorative trills of the melody. He found himself holding his breath as the music flowed around him.

Then Beckett apparently found what she had been looking for in the book, and her song cut off as she bent over the pages. Castle let his breath out in a soft whoosh, blinking dazedly.

"Oh, Mr. Castle!" said a voice from behind him, and he jumped a foot, gasping in startlement. It was Lois, hurrying toward him with an anxious expression. "Have you seen Kate?" she implored, not even seeming to notice his discombobulation. Inside the library, he could see Beckett reacting to their voices, looking up from her work.

"Uh, um," he stammered, and Beckett came over and opened the door fully.

"What's up, Lois?"

"Oh, Kate, thank goodness." The older woman sighed anxiously. "Annabel's sister is here, and she says there's supposed to be something here for her, and she's just so distraught, and I don't know what to do. And Howard has disappeared again."

"Okay. Okay, calm down," Beckett said gently. "I'll be right there in a minute, okay?"

Nodding gratefully, Lois fluttered back down the hallway toward her office, while Beckett fixed an angry look on Castle.

"Were you spying on me? That's really creepy, Castle."

"I wasn't spying," he protested. "You were singing. I was listening." _Very smooth, Rick_ , he groused internally. Why couldn't he keep his cool around this woman?

"Singing?" Beckett repeated dubiously, taking a step back. "I wasn't-" She cut herself off, frowning a little. "I was singing?"

Castle's eyebrows went up. "You didn't even realize it? You were singing _Rejoice Greatly_."

"Lots of people hum to themselves while they're working," she muttered defensively, moving back into the library to put away the books she had been looking at.

"Yeah, but most of us don't sound like-" _angels from above_ , he stopped himself from saying, oh god she had reduced him to purple prose, "-like we're on stage before an audience of thousands."

"What?" she exclaimed, blanching slightly. He watched her curl in on herself, almost unconsciously, he thought; her expression was guarded, uncomfortable.

"Beckett, your voice is amazing," he said slowly. "You're so talented. How can you hide it away?" The next thought was so obvious that it popped out of his mouth the instant it popped into his head. "You should be our soprano soloist."

She sucked in a harsh breath, looking stricken. "That's crazy," she said, and he was sure she hadn't intended the quaver in her voice, the hitch in her breath.

"It's not crazy at all," he denied. "You have a gorgeous voice, and you know the piece by heart. You-"

"Stop it," she interrupted fiercely. "Just stop. You don't know anything." She brushed past him and strode down the hall, her heels clicking angrily on the glossy wooden floor.

Castle gaped in bewilderment for a long moment, then hurried to catch up.

"Beckett, wait-"

But he reached her just as she reached Howard's office, and he had to cut himself off as Beckett grasped the doorknob, took the briefest moment to compose herself, and opened the door.

* * *

Beckett took a deep breath and pushed aside the roiling emotions of her conversation with Castle. As she entered the outer room of Howard's suite, her eyes were immediately drawn to the young woman sitting on one of the visitor chairs, red-eyed and sniffling. With her blonde hair and round face, the resemblance to Annabel was unmistakable.

Lois was hovering nearby, twisting her hands helplessly. Hearing the door open, she looked up and her face flooded with relief.

"Kate. Oh, thank you for coming." She reached out a hand to urge Beckett forward. "Darla, this is Kate Beckett, our concertmaster. Kate, this is Darla Matthews, Annabel's sister."

"Hello," the young woman said wetly, extending a limp hand.

"Hello, Darla," Kate replied, taking her hand for a quick squeeze. "I'm so very sorry for your loss."

"Thank you." As Kate slid into the chair beside her, Darla fixed her with a beseeching look and said, "I just don't understand. Who would kill my sister? And what was she going to give me?"

"Give you?" Kate repeated, glancing over at Lois and Castle, who stood looking just as confused as she was. "What do you mean?"

"Annabel called me," Darla sniffled into a wad of tissues in her hand, "and said she had something for me. She said that she was in rehearsal all afternoon and she would call me when she was done, so we could meet up."

"She said she was rehearsing?" Castle asked, then started guiltily, putting up an apologetic hand even before Beckett gave him the evil eye.

"Darla, this is Richard Castle, our conductor," Beckett said reluctantly, and Castle stepped forward to shake Darla's hand and murmur something sympathetic. "But I don't know what you mean about Annabel having something for you," Kate added gently. "What was it?"

"I don't know," the young woman shrugged helplessly. "She wouldn't say. I was at the nursing home with our mother when Annabel called, so I couldn't talk long. I said, 'what is this thing you want to give me?' and she just said, 'you'll see.'" She blinked watery, puffy eyes at Kate. "I asked the police, and they let me look in her purse, but there wasn't anything unusual there. So I thought maybe she left it here, whatever it was."

"We haven't found anything," Lois put in diffidently, "and the police did look around very thoroughly. So I don't know what it could have been."

"I just wish I knew," Darla sobbed, scrubbing her face with the tissues. "I wish she had said to come and meet her here. Maybe I could have - I could have stopped it." A fresh flood of tears flowed down her cheeks.

"No, no. Don't think that way. It's not your fault," Kate murmured, putting an arm awkwardly around the other woman's shoulders. She shot a glare toward Castle, who startled and then quietly backed away, giving them space. Lois handed over the tissue box.

It took Kate another ten minutes to get Darla calmed down enough so that she could call a friend to come and pick her up. "I'm so sorry to get you all wet," the young woman moaned, seeing the damp patch she had made on the shoulder of Kate's sweater.

"Please, don't worry about it," Kate told her sincerely. "I'm sorry we don't know what Annabel was going to give you, but we'll be sure to let you know if we turn anything up."

"Thank you so much," Darla sniffled, and with some relief Kate was at last able to hand her off to her friend, showing them to the side exit so they could leave without being spotted by the reporters out front.

* * *

"This mystery gets more and more mysterious," Castle exclaimed, when Darla had at last departed.

"Yeah," Beckett agreed, pulling her sweater off. "Well, maybe the cops found something they didn't tell us about."

Castle was badly distracted by the removal of Beckett's clothing, which had left her in only a light gray tank top. His eyes followed the long line of her throat, the strong bones of her clavicles, the dip of her cleavage; then he found himself hung up on her slim but well-muscled arms. Violinist arms, and the sinuous curves of her deltoids and biceps captivated him.

Belatedly, he realized that she was in motion, walking away, and he hurried to catch up.

"What do you think Annabel was going to give her sister?" he asked eagerly as he followed her down the hall. "There are so many possibilities. Drugs? Money? Jewelry? Secret nuclear launch codes?" He gasped. "A puppy?"

A gurgle of laughter broke free from Beckett's throat before she managed to stifle it. "Castle," she said, apparently striving for a sharp tone, but not really getting there. "The other interesting question is, why did Annabel lie to her sister? Why tell her that she was rehearsing, when we know she wasn't?"

"Good point," he said thoughtfully. "That is interesting." Beckett opened a door and he started to follow her through it, but she paused and looked quizzically at him. "What?" He looked up, and realized that it was the door to the women's restroom. "Oh. Sorry." Grinning sheepishly, he retreated.

Shortly he heard the roar of the hand-dryer, which continued for a while, and when Beckett emerged she was putting her sweater back on. She seemed surprised to see him.

"You're still here," she said flatly.

"We were in the middle of a conversation," he pointed out, falling into step as she headed back toward the library again.

"No, I'm pretty sure _you_ were in the middle of wild speculation," Beckett retorted, "and I was about to tell you to get lost."

"Well, you didn't get around to it, so I guess that means you subconsciously want me around," he said cheerfully, and was rewarded with a very dirty look as she opened the library door.

"You really do have a talent for fiction, Castle."

"Ouch," he groaned, clutching his chest dramatically. "No, but seriously, Beckett, we're on the trail of something here. Can't you feel it?"

"What trail?" Huffing exasperatedly, she turned to face him fully. "All we have is a series of unconnected facts and a bunch of unsubstantiated theories. And a complete lack of police credentials."

"Say 'unsubstantiated' again. That's so hot." That got him another hard glare, but he barreled blithely onward. "And the facts are not unconnected," he said loftily. "We just don't happen to know how they're connected yet. Once we figure that out, we'll see that there is a story here. One coherent, cohesive narrative that makes all the pieces make sense."

"Fine," Beckett sighed, "then why don't you go write that story, and leave me in peace?"

"I -" he began, but suddenly paused, rocking back on his heels as a realization hit him. Of course - he couldn't believe he hadn't seen it last night. The woman in the alley scene he had composed was Beckett, and... In a flash of inspiration that he felt physically like a fist to the gut, the entire plot of the opera burst into his head. Background, exposition, rising action, primary conflict, secondary conflict, minor resolution, major resolution; a whole collection of major and minor characters. They were all there, arranged in his mind like constellations, like branches on a tree. Snippets of melodies began to form as well, attaching themselves to the various characters.

It had been a long time - years, he thought - since a whole opera had come to him so forcefully, so completely. The excitement of it buzzed through his veins like a familiar drug, one he hadn't taken a hit from in far too long.

He realized that Beckett was staring at him, saying his name curiously. "Are you okay?" she asked, wavering between amusement and concern.

"Good. I'm good," he choked out. "I gotta go. I'll see you tomorrow at the rehearsals." And he dashed for the door.

But before he left the building, another thought occurred to him. He dashed back inside and found his way back to Howard's office.

"Hey, Lois? I forgot to get Kate's phone numbers - do you have them handy?"

"Sure, of course, Maestro," she said agreeably, and wrote them down for him, both home and cell phone numbers. He thanked her with his best charming smile and left.


	8. Chapter 8

_Through all the tumult and the strife,_  
_I hear that music ringing._  
_It finds an echo in my soul._  
_How can I keep from singing?_  
\- traditional hymn, author unknown 

Kate was a little surprised by the way Castle abruptly stopped teasing her and disappeared, but she told herself not to look a gift horse in the mouth. An afternoon without Castle around was a good thing, she reminded herself firmly. He was childish and annoying, and not in the slightest bit endearing. Damn it.

She returned to her work in the Symphony Hall library, though she found it hard to concentrate. After about ten minutes of studying the music, her stomach rumbled and she realized it was past lunchtime. So she put everything away and prepared to leave.

As she was putting on her coat, it occurred to her that they had never found out the last name of Daniel, the lawyer whom Annabel had met with the previous day. For a brief moment she considered going down the hall to ask Lois.

But no. Hadn't she spent the whole morning telling Castle that they shouldn't be poking their noses into the murder investigation? Practice what you preach, Kate. She put her bag over her shoulder and departed.

Kevin let her out the side door, and she managed to escape the notice of the paparazzi out front. She took a taxi back to her apartment and heated up some leftovers for lunch. By the time she had finished eating, it was time to go to her afternoon tutoring session.

Today's tutoring student was a shy, somewhat nerdy teenage boy who always blossomed beautifully as soon as he put his violin under his chin. Kate enjoyed teaching him, but it was a little painful to see how hungrily he sucked up every little crumb of praise. Sometimes she ached to tell him: _listen, you know you're a good player. There's no reason to deny it or hide it. Own it; have some confidence and pride in yourself._

But then she thought about herself at that age, and how she might have reacted if one of her teachers - even her beloved violin teacher, Mike Royce, on whom she'd had a hopeless raging crush for years - had said something like that to her. She wouldn't have been able to hear it, she knew that for sure. Mired in adolescent insecurity, she would have dismissed any adult advice as useless platitudes. So now she restrained herself and just said gentle things like _you've obviously been working hard_ and _this piece is really coming along_.

Thinking about it while she listened to her student make his way through one of the new pieces she had brought for him, she suddenly remembered what Castle had said to her earlier today. Something about _don't hide your talent away_. Uncomfortable though it was, she couldn't help seeing the parallels between what she wished she could tell her student and what Castle had told her.

Damn him, why did Castle have to be right? But it was complicated, and he didn't know. He couldn't.

* * *

Castle went home and made a beeline for his piano. He sat for a while with music paper, jotting down the snippets of melodies and harmonies that had begun to come into his head. Then, changing tack, he took out a notebook of plain lined paper and wrote down summaries of all of the characters, with their relationships and motivations and voice parts. He wrote an outline of the opera's plot and filled in some tentative song titles.

Then he pulled his little wheeled table over next to the piano, put his laptop on it, opened his music notation program, and began copying in the song he had written the night before, and the new bits of songs. Swiveling his piano stool, he turned back and forth between the computer and the piano, hearing a whole orchestra's worth of instruments in his head as well as the soloists and choruses.

An hour or two or three later, Alexis came home from school. Entering the loft, she saw her father at his piano, working on his computer, and her face lit up with pleasure. She moved quietly as she put away her coat, not wanting to disturb him; but he noticed anyway and stood up, groaning loudly as he stretched out his spine.

"Hey, pumpkin. You're home already?"

"It's probably later than you think," his daughter replied, smiling as she came over for a hug. He glanced at the clock and his eyes widened.

"Oh wow, you're right. Where did the afternoon go?"

"It's great to see you composing again, Dad," Alexis said quietly from within the curve of his arm. He smiled down at her.

"It's good to be back. This one's going to be awesome, you wait and see."

"What's it about?"

"Uh…" He paused, rubbing his forehead. "I'd rather not say yet. It's, uh, still coming together."

Alexis noted with some interest that his ears had turned pink, but she chose not to comment, saying instead, "Did you even eat lunch, Dad?"

"Um?" He looked vaguely toward the kitchen. "I think I had some, uh..."

"Coffee, Dad. You had coffee and didn't eat anything. Tell me I'm wrong." He grinned sheepishly, and the teenager sighed, shaking her head.

"Come on. I'll make you a grilled cheese sandwich and you'll ask me how my day was at school."

"With three kinds of cheese?" Castle asked eagerly, following his daughter toward the kitchen.

"Only if you come for a walk with me afterward to burn it off."

"Deal."

So they spent a pleasant half-hour cooking and eating companionably, and then they put on their coats and wandered the streets for another half-hour, chatting. Alexis frowned at Castle when he tried to hold her hand, and he pouted, so eventually she deigned to tuck her hand into the crook of his elbow as they strolled along the sidewalk.

"So, did you see your Ms. Beckett today?" his daughter said teasingly, as they turned their steps back toward home.

"She's not mine," he replied, just a little wistfully, "but yes, I did. I went by Symphony Hall for a bit and we-" He stopped in mid-sentence as a thought came to him. "Hey, we never found out about that lawyer. That completely slipped my mind after we talked to the sister."

"What lawyer? What sister?" Alexis looked at him strangely. "Dad, you're rambling."

"Oh." In an uncharacteristic moment of discretion, he decided it would be best not to let his daughter know that he had been investigating the murder. Sort of investigating. With Beckett. Kind of. "Sorry, honey. Don't mind me."

But he picked up the pace a little, and as soon as they got back into the loft, Alexis headed upstairs to start on her homework and Castle retired to his study with Beckett's phone numbers.

Beckett didn't answer either her home or cell phone, so he sat at his desk for a few minutes, thinking about the mysteries surrounding Annabel's murder. He got out another notebook and wrote down everything they knew and had found out about the case so far. He listed the potential suspects - currently Howard Grainger and Brett Donovan - and all of the open questions.

He thought about calling Symphony Hall and asking Lois to give him the lawyer's contact information, but, looking at the clock again, realized that it was too late. Everyone had probably left for the evening. Well, he would be back at Symphony Hall tomorrow for more rehearsals, so he would have a chance to identify and talk with the lawyer then.

Tapping his fingers impatiently on the desk, he dialed Beckett's home number again.

"Hello?" came her voice, breathless.

"Beckett! Did you just get in?"

"Castle?" she demanded, surprised. "Why are you calling me? How did you get my number?"

"I know people. Listen," he went on hastily, "we get comp tickets for the concerts, right?"

"What? Of course," Beckett said, sighing. He heard soft thumps and swishing noises, and deduced that she was putting things down and taking off her coat. "Why are you asking me this, Castle?"

"Just want to be sure my mother and daughter will be able to come, that's all."

"Oh?" she asked. "Doesn't your mother have shows of her own this weekend?"

Of course, Martha Rodgers was indeed performing that weekend; she was currently in the middle of a lengthy Broadway run of _Blithe Spirit_. But how did Beckett know that? "You know who my mother is?" he exclaimed gleefully. "Oh, of course you do. I forgot, you're my biggest fan." He grinned when he heard her scornful snort. "Tell me, Beckett, do you subscribe to my website?"

"Please. You're so full of yourself," she grumped, and his grin widened, because it wasn't a denial.

"So we do get comp tickets, though, right? For all three of the concerts? Which one is your boyfriend coming to?"

A short pause. "Subtle," she said, and now he could tell that she was smiling from the tone of her voice. "Wow, Castle, I really thought you'd have more game than that, considering your page-six reputation."

 _When it comes to you I've got nothing_ , he thought, and also _So, no boyfriend then_ , but all he said was "Don't believe everything you read, Beckett. By the way, we never found out that lawyer's last name, did we?"

"We didn't, and it's just as well," she shot back quickly. "Need I remind you that we aren't the police?"

"No, that reminder isn't necessary, although you would look totally hot in uniform." Her indignant huff came right on schedule, and he grinned to himself once again. "But tomorrow at the rehearsal we'll talk to Daniel, right? Find out what Annabel was trying to change in her contract. It could be relevant. Maybe he'll even know what she was going to give her sister."

"Did it ever occur to you," Beckett said sourly, "that if Annabel talked about anything that might be pertinent to her murder, Daniel would have told the police about it already? Maybe they'll have solved the case before tomorrow's rehearsal even gets started."

"Don't be pessimistic, Beckett. There's no need to get discouraged."

"Pessimistic?" she cried, and then sighed loudly, and he heard a noise of skin against skin, which he imagined was her hand rubbing over her face. "Castle, did you call just to annoy me?"

"No," he said, "actually, I wanted to ask whether you've thought any more about what I said earlier."

"About Annabel giving her sister a puppy? No, I can't say that I have," Beckett replied, and he could hear the grin in her voice.

"Not that." He dropped the teasing from his voice, leaned forward in his chair as if his posture could infuse the words with extra weight. "About you being the soloist for the concerts this weekend."

Silence. She didn't respond, so he went on.

"If Chloe does _How Beautiful Are The Feet_ and _He Shall Feed His Flock_ , and if we cut out _I Know That My Redeemer Liveth_ , then all you'd have to do is _Rejoice Greatly_ and the little recitatives that introduce _Glory to God_. I bet you know them all by heart already, Beckett. You can totally do this."

There was a long pause, so long that he wondered if she had just walked away from the phone. "Beckett?" he said at last, softly.

He heard a harsh intake of breath, ragged and wet. Oh shit, was she crying? What had he done?

"You don't know what you're doing," she said quietly, and her voice was completely controlled, utterly calm, but still he could feel the tension radiating across the phone wires. "Sticking your nose in where you don't belong. Poking things that should be left alone."

"Are we talking about Annabel's murder again?" he asked, although he knew the answer.

"Castle," she snapped, and then took a deep breath and was immediately back to the calm tone: "I'll see you tomorrow at the rehearsal."

"Wait! No, Beckett, wait, don't hang up," he pleaded, sitting up straighter. He needed to make this right. He didn't want her to be upset because of him - because he was a tactless idiot - because there were so many things he didn't understand about her. He wanted to understand.

She sighed explosively. " _What?_ "

"Listen." He floundered for a moment, then seized on what she had just said: the rehearsal. "Um, the orchestra. If we're going to do the alto versions of those two arias. The orchestra members don't have the sheet music for that, do they?"

"Shit," she said, and he pictured her pulling that lower lip between her teeth the way she always seemed to do. God, that was hot. Everything she did was hot. "I should have thought of that when I was in the library today," she muttered. "I'm sure it's there."

"No problem then," he said hastily. "We'll just go a little early tomorrow morning and find it."

"Yeah," she said slowly. "Okay. Yeah."

"So ... I'll meet you in the library? At nine-thirty?"

"Okay," she said again. "I'll see you then, Castle." And she hung up before he had a chance to think of another topic, another reason to keep her on the line.

He put the phone down and sat still, thinking.

He didn't know why Beckett was so resistant to the idea of performing the solos, but it didn't take a genius to guess that it probably had something to do with her mother's death. After all, that was when Beckett had given up singing, and apparently she hadn't sung anything in the ten years since then, devoting herself instead to violin.

Given up singing? Was that really possible?

He jumped up and went back to the piano.

* * *

Kate put down her phone and let out a long, shaky sigh. Not for the first time, she cursed the moment she had met Richard Castle and he had begun worming his way into her life, into her head.

She supposed it did seem obvious, from his perspective, that she should do those solos. She wasn't surprised that it hadn't occurred to her, though. She hadn't thought of herself as a singer for many years.

She was aware, of course, that she did sing. To herself, quietly, when she was alone; as hard as she had tried to stop it, she never could. She would catch herself humming or crooning under her breath, or sometimes even full-throated and full volume, while she went about her household chores; and, upon realizing it, she would snap her mouth shut, guilt and shame surging up her treacherous throat to gag her.

Her last boyfriend, Will, had caught her singing once while folding laundry; he had smiled and called it 'cute.' It was probably an exaggeration to say that that was why they had broken up, but it certainly hadn't helped.

Stage fright was not the problem. Growing up with a famous singer for a mother, and then entering the performing field herself as a young teen, Kate Beckett had been comfortable with the spotlight from the beginning. As a child she had sung duets with her mother, before audiences ranging in size from a single man in the living room - her father - to a packed house at Carnegie Hall. Later, years of being at the top of her game as a violinist had given her a self-confidence that translated into complete poise on the stage - at least, when it came to playing the violin.

But when she thought about standing up in front of hundreds of people and _singing_ , an unfamiliar chill seized her spine; a cold knot tightened in her belly; hot moisture gathered in the corners of her eyes.

It wasn't stage fright. It was something else entirely, something she had been living with and accepting for far too long. Reluctant though she was to admit it, Castle was on the right track: it was time for her to move on.

Slowly, she walked over to the case on the wall and found her _Messiah_ CDs. She had several recordings of it, but the Boston Baroque version was her favorite, and that was the one she reached for now.

Her hand trembled slightly as she opened the case and put the CD into her living-room stereo. She pressed the forward button to skip past all of the arias and choruses until she reached number 18.

The orchestral introduction filled the room, violins lilting through the melody, and then the soprano soloist began to sing.

_Rejoice, rejoice, rejoice greatly._

Kate took a breath and, on the second phrase, began to sing along.

_Rejoice, O daughter of Zion._

She hadn't warmed up, and her voice was rusty, so she kept it light, not pushing too hard.

_O daughter of Zion, rejoice, rejoice, rejoice._

Long-buried muscle memories began to reassert themselves - breath control, diaphragm support, lifting the soft palate. She closed her eyes and let her voice resonate in the open space of her living room, trying to hear it the way an audience would; the way Castle had.

_O daughter of Zion, rejoice greatly. Shout, O daughter of Jerusalem._

Tears began to slip down her cheeks as the music swept her up, but she didn't stop singing until the piece was finished. She sank onto the couch and lowered her face into her hands as the orchestra played the conclusion of the movement and the CD moved on to the next track.

 _Then shall the eyes of the blind be open'd_ , crooned the alto soloist, _and the ears of the deaf unstopped_...

Kate got up and stopped the CD. She took a deep, shaky breath, and another. She dried her eyes and cheeks with the sleeve of her sweater.

Then she went to the foyer table where she had dropped her shoulder bag, took out her _Messiah_ score, and took it to the couch with her. She sat down again, opened the score, and began to study.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The specific recording that Kate listens to in this chapter is available on YouTube if you'd like to check it out. Enter in the search box "Messiah 18 of 53" and your first search result should be the video from user 'prhughes0' featuring Rejoice Greatly with pictures of flowers.


	9. Chapter 9

_For most of us, there is only the unattended_  
_Moment, the moment in and out of time,_  
_...or music heard so deeply_  
_That it is not heard at all, but you are the music_  
_While the music lasts._  
-T.S. Eliot 

On Thursday morning Castle was up early, despite having worked on the new opera until far too late the previous night. He stood beside the piano with a cup of coffee in his hand, flipping through the pages of music that he had written. Seeing the small galaxies of musical notes dancing across the paper filled him with a deep sense of satisfaction.

He had more to write, but it would have to wait. Two rehearsals, a murder mystery, and a remarkably frustrating woman were on his agenda for the day.

After seeing Alexis off to school, he made his way to Symphony Hall, with just one quick stop along the way. He was relieved to see that the media crews had abandoned the area - apparently the still-unsolved murder of a soprano was old news now - and the front door was no longer guarded. He let himself in and strode quickly along the corridors to the library.

Beckett was already there, searching down the long stretches of shelving, when he arrived. "Good morning," he chirped, juggling two paper cups and his briefcase as he came through the door.

"Morning," she responded coolly. She watched him with a somewhat cautious, guarded expression as he set the briefcase and one cup down on the table and brought the other cup over to her.

"What's this?" she asked.

"It's coffee, Beckett," he said patiently, pressing the cup into her hand. "See, you can tell from the Starbucks logo on the side, and the delicious coffee smell."

She narrowed her eyes. "I told you, you don't have to buy me coffee."

"Yes, you did, but as you've noticed by now, I don't listen," he replied cheerfully as she took a suspicious sip. Her eyebrows went up; she said nothing, but took another, larger sip. Castle suppressed a smile of pride. Remembering how she liked her coffee had been a good move.

"Thanks," she said grudgingly, and gestured toward the shelves. "I think I found everything we need right here."

"The instrumental parts for the alto versions?" He looked, and took down the volumes that she indicated. Together they carried the scores over to the table and spread them out.

"This should do it," she said, surveying the pile. "Let's just double-check and make sure we have all the parts."

Working side by side, they sorted out the sheaves of paper, making piles for the different sections of the orchestra.

"I was thinking," Castle said as he separated the viola parts, "what if Annabel swallowed it? The thing she was going to give to her sister."

"Swallowed it?" Beckett repeated, disbelieving.

"Yeah, you know, to keep it out of the wrong hands. When she saw the murderer coming, she swallowed whatever it was, so that the enemy wouldn't get hold of it."

"So we're back to secret nuclear launch codes, are we?" Beckett asked, rolling her eyes. "Castle, there's no vast international conspiracy at work here. Annabel wasn't a spy. She was just a singer."

"She could have been both. It would be the perfect cover," he exclaimed, letting the idea carry him away. "Think about it - being a musician gets you access to places that might be hard for a spy to get into otherwise. Fancy parties, embassies, that kind of thing. She could have gone there to perform, or, or to tutor the ambassador's kids, and collected intel while she was there." He blinked a few times. "Whoa, that's good. I'm so going to use that."

"Castle," Beckett said in exasperation, but then there came a tentative rap on the door, a young woman sticking her head in. Another young woman was right behind her. Behind them, in the hallway, orchestra members were beginning to arrive for the rehearsal.

"Kate? Can we talk to you?" asked the young woman in the doorway, anxiously.

"Oh - sure," Beckett replied, looking surprised. "Come on in. Castle, this is Amy, and this is Laura, our flautists."

"Good to see you again, ladies," Castle said smoothly, shaking their hands. The two young women blushed and stammered, and couldn't meet his eyes.

"Yes, um, you too, sir," one of them muttered, and the other just nodded and blushed. Castle was used to people getting star-struck and tongue-tied around him, and from the way the two young women were looking from Beckett to him and back, he sensed that his presence was unnerving them. Time to back off.

"Excuse me," he said with a friendly smile, and shot a look at Beckett that he hoped was meaningful in some way, and exited the library.

Pacing casually up and down the hall, studying the portraits on the walls of famous conductors and symphony presidents of the past, he ruminated on the fact that Beckett was clearly the person everyone came to with their problems, questions, and dilemmas. Not surprising; she had a way of setting people at ease, making them feel comfortable with whatever they had to say. It was too bad Annabel hadn't known that, he thought vaguely; maybe if she had confided in Beckett, none of this would be happening.

A few minutes could seem like hours to Castle, who was not the most patient man at the best of times, so he had no idea how long it had been when the library door opened again and the two flute players came out, looking relieved.

"Thanks, Kate," they both said, and smiled nervously at Castle, and hurried off to the stage.

"What was that all about? he asked as he came back into the library and returned to the piles of music on the table. He noticed that Beckett was grimacing, shaking her head. He grinned suddenly. "I'm going to love it, aren't I?"

"Yeah," she sighed, rolling her eyes. "I'm afraid so."

"Well, come on, Beckett, out with it."

She sighed and huffed some more, and gave in. "It seems that during the joint rehearsal on Monday, Amy heard a chorus soprano in the bathroom complaining that she had auditioned for a role that ended up going to Annabel. And Amy heard her say, 'if Annabel takes one more part that should have been mine, I'll kill her.'"

Castle's eyebrows shot up. "Oh, really. That's ... interesting."

"Yeah," Beckett said reluctantly. "And Laura was here on Tuesday, using the practice rooms in the basement during the chorus rehearsal, and when she was coming up the stairs to leave, she saw Annabel in the stairwell arguing with a woman. Presumably the same soprano. She heard Annabel say something like 'you can't have it, it's mine.'"

"Whoa," Castle said. "Did Amy and Laura tell you who it was?"

"No, Amy never saw her face in the bathroom, and Laura doesn't know the chorus members so she didn't recognize her."

"Hmm," he mused. "And let me guess, the stairs coming up from the basement are the same stairs that go to the upper balcony where Annabel was shot."

"That's right."

"Well, what do you know," he grinned. He had been right: he did love it. "All of a sudden we have another suspect."

"Yeah," Beckett said skeptically, "but it's not exactly damning, Castle. I mean, people say that kind of thing all the time - 'I'm gonna kill her' - it's just a figure of speech. They don't really mean they're going to literally murder someone."

"No, but I bet Detective Gates would still consider it a lead worth tracking down," he insisted, "and we could help her by figuring out which soprano it was."

Beckett paused, biting her lip indecisively. "Well..."

"It shouldn't be too hard," he urged. "Everyone gossips in a choir, right? We just have to ask the right person."

"There you are, you two," said a voice from the doorway. They both startled and looked over to see Howard Grainger leaning in. "Ready to get started?"

"Yes, of course," Castle said instantly, flashing his most confident smile. "We were just getting the music together for the alto versions of those arias."

"Good. Good," Howard said. "I've asked Chloe to come by today and run through those bits with you. But we're still looking for a soprano for the necessary bits in Part One."

"Yeah," Castle said, casting a glance over at Beckett, whose expression was completely neutral now as she gathered up the stacks of sheet music. "Um, listen, Howard, don't worry about that, okay? We, um, we're working on a solution."

"Oh?" Howard looked surprised. "Okay. Well, dress rehearsal's tomorrow, so I hope your solution gets itself wrapped up by then."

"It will," Beckett said unexpectedly, and Castle gaped at her as Howard nodded and withdrew.

"Beckett-"

"Time to get started," she cut him off, plopping the pile of sheet music into his arms and picking up her violin case. "You coming, Castle?"

"Yeah. Yeah," he said, and snapped his mouth shut, and followed her.

* * *

"Good morning," Castle said as he ascended the podium, and the musicians began to quiet, listening. Kate set her violin case on her seat and began to move between the chairs, passing out new sheet music to the players.

"I'm sure you've all heard what happened the other day," Castle went on, "and, well, I won't sugarcoat it. It was pretty awful." He paused, and the concert hall was silent for a long moment. "But the best way to honor Annabel is by moving on with this beautiful music," Castle continued then, "so without further ado, let's get into it." He nodded to Beckett, who paused and turned to address the orchestra as well.

"There've been a few changes to the program," she told her fellow players. "We'll be doing the all-alto version of number twenty, and the alto variation of number 38. I'm handing out updated music now."

"What about the other soprano solos?" called a voice from the cello section. Kate opened her mouth to reply, but Castle beat her to it.

"We'll be rehearsing those at the end today if we have time," he said, "and the situation is still unresolved, so that's the best we can tell you for right now."

Some of the players looked less than fully satisfied with the response, but no one said anything further. Kate finished handing out the new scores and returned to her seat, quickly getting out her violin and bow while the rest of the instruments were tuning up.

In short order, Castle ran them through the two instrumental movements and the first few arias and choruses. Kate played almost on autopilot, as her mind kept wandering back to the ongoing mystery of Annabel's death.

Now they had three suspects, and no more answers than they had had yesterday. Kate wished she could share Castle's confidence in the power of narrative, but right now it seemed impossible that one story could explain all the bits and pieces of information that they had gathered. She wondered how it would feel if the police did identify and capture the killer, but left some of those loose ends dangling. Somehow, she suspected that would not sit well with Castle.

Shaking herself slightly, she forced the murder from her mind and focused on the music, and on Castle. She noticed that he seemed more confident than he had in the first few rehearsals earlier in the week. She still wasn't sure exactly what it was in his body language that had given her the impression that he was nervous, but he seemed much more relaxed now.

It also hadn't escaped Kate's notice that he hadn't asked her to meet before the rehearsal again to make a plan. Apparently, after the first three rehearsals, he had gotten a pretty good sense of what needed to be worked on. He had a sheet of paper on his music stand, covered with scribbles that seemed to be his list of trouble spots to work on. As the rehearsal proceeded, he consulted the list frequently, and kept things moving without sign of hesitation.

Just as Castle called a break in the middle of rehearsal, the alto soloist, Chloe Palmer, arrived in the hall. Kate got up from her seat and went to greet her.

"Hi, Chloe. Thanks for coming."

"It's no problem," Chloe replied, smiling, but casting a nervous glance upward. "Poor Annabel," she murmured. "Oh, I know it's silly, but it just feels strange to be here where she, you know."

"It's not silly," Kate assured her as Castle came over to join them. "But you don't have anything to worry about. You're in no danger."

"Yeah," Castle agreed, "it's not like we have a serial killer roaming around looking for soloists to knock off." His eyes glazed slightly and Kate could tell that he was thinking how 'cool' that would be, so she quickly headed him off.

"Chloe, have you met Maestro Castle? We're all ready to go through the solos if you're ready."

Chloe went off to a quiet corner to warm up, and Kate found herself standing with Castle in almost the same spot where they had been the other night, when Annabel fell. She shuddered a little and moved away.

Castle, of course, followed. "Hey, Beckett, we should have a strategy for this afternoon. We have a lot to get through."

She looked askance at him. "Why do I get the feeling that you aren't talking about rehearsing with the chorus?"

"I don't know what you mean," he grinned, batting his eyes innocently. "But we should discuss it. Did you bring a sandwich again, or are you going out for lunch?"

Beckett folded her arms across her chest and studied Castle through narrowed eyes, debating. It almost kind of sounded like he was asking her out … again. Just like he had done at lunchtime the other day. But was she imagining things?

Against her will, her mind drifted back to their conversation in the balcony yesterday, when they were imagining Annabel and Brett having a fight, or a liaison. She remembered Castle's hands on her arms, the way he looked at her, the rough rasp of his voice.

Maybe she wasn't imagining things after all. But that didn't mean a lunch date was a good idea.

Before she could decide how to respond, they were interrupted by a clarinetist with a question, and then there was a cellist with another question, and then it was time to resume the rehearsal. Kate chewed on her lower lip as she went back onstage and retrieved her violin. She knew it was too much to hope for that Castle would let the whole thing drop.

"Let's start with _How Beautiful Are The Feet_ , since it's shorter," Castle said as they reconvened. Chloe nodded agreement, the orchestra members rustled pages as they found the right spot, and they began.

The alto version of this aria was not nearly as commonly performed as the soprano version, and Kate didn't know it well, despite having performed Messiah so many times. She was impressed by how well the lower register seemed to suit the music, bringing it more down to earth as compared with the ethereal soprano version. It seemed somehow more somber and contemplative. She couldn't decide whether she liked it better, but she did like it.

Chloe smiled throughout the piece, letting her mellow tones soar out into the open space of the concert hall. If she was nervous about having her role in the concert greatly increased as a result of Annabel's death, she didn't show it.

When the movement was finished, Castle turned to Chloe with a smile. "That was great," he told her. "I've never heard this version before."

"No, it isn't very well-known," Chloe nodded. "It's fun though. Shall we do the other one?"

They moved on to _He Shall Feed His Flock_ , which was normally performed as an alto-soprano duet. In the revised version, Chloe would sing both verses. This version too was less well-known, and the orchestra members' faces were drawn tight in concentration. They stumbled their way through it, somewhat uncertainly.

As soon as the last notes died away, almost everyone - the players, Castle, and Chloe - reached for pencils to mark up their scores. "Good work, everyone," Castle said as he scribbled. "I think we could use another pass through that one, what do you think?" he added, looking over toward Kate, and including Chloe in the lift of his eyebrows as well.

"I think that's a good idea," Kate responded, and Chloe nodded to show willing. So they played through the movement again, and it went much more smoothly this time; a subtle tension was released throughout the orchestra by the time they reached the end. Chloe was nodding and smiling, turning back to cast a grateful look at the whole group.

"Thanks, everyone," she said, and Castle echoed, "Yes, thank you. That was much better, wasn't it?"

Nods all around. Kate gave Castle an approving nod of her own, and was interested to note how relieved he looked.

Then Castle was shaking Chloe's hand and thanking her for coming; they would rehearse the rest of her solos tomorrow.

After Chloe left, Castle took the orchestra through a few more movements, and then said, "Before we call it a day, I'd like to run through the soprano solo movements. I know everyone has places to be," he added apologetically, "but I hope you'll all bear with me a little bit longer to just quickly go over these parts."

The players shifted in their seats, murmuring assent; Kate didn't hear any grumbles of complaint, and as she looked across the orchestra, it struck her again that Castle had somehow managed to charm this entire group onto his side. In previous years they had been united in mordant dislike for Perlmutter, and now, it seemed, they were united in tolerant affection for Castle. It was an interesting change in the group dynamic.

They played quickly through the accompaniment for the three recitatives that told the story of the Annunciation, and then they played _Rejoice Greatly_ , ending only a few minutes later than scheduled. "Thanks so much, everyone," Castle called as the players began quickly packing up their instruments. "I'll see you here again tomorrow for the dress rehearsal. It's gonna be great."

Kate sat in her chair and covertly watched Castle while she put away her violin. She observed how he flashed a smile at each person who came up to talk to him, and the smiles looked genuine; he focused on the faces of the people he was speaking to, and responded with interest and care, never showing any hint of boredom or reluctance, even with those who rambled on interminably. If he was faking it, he was an excellent actor.

Of course, he was Martha Rodgers' son. But still, Kate's instincts told her that he wasn't faking it, not here, not with these people.

She pulled her lower lip between her teeth and forced herself to look away.

* * *

Castle hadn't missed Beckett's reaction to his question about lunch. He hadn't really intended it as anything more than an invitation of convenience - they both needed to eat, and he had things he wanted to talk to her about - but of course, he realized belatedly, she would have seen it in a different light. He hadn't forgotten her reaction to being seen with him at Starbucks the other day, and although part of him might feel a little hurt, he did get it. Beckett had to be careful of her reputation and image. As appealing as the idea of a lunch date was to him, he could see that she wasn't in the same mindset. Yet.

So when the orchestra rehearsal was finished, and he had dealt with all of the various questions that inevitably came his way, he strolled over to Beckett and simply said, "I'm going to go grab a sandwich. Can I bring something back for you?"

She straightened up from closing her violin case and looked at him, surprised. "Um, sure, chicken salad would be perfect. Thanks."

"You got it." He put on his coat and left, whistling.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: This chapter again deals with suicide and its aftermath / aftereffects.

_Alas for those that never sing,_  
_But die with all their music in them!_  
-Oliver Wendell Holmes

Castle enjoyed the short walk to the deli he had visited the other day. The air was cold, but crisp, and the stately buildings sparkled in the winter sun.

He spent a few pleasant minutes chatting again with the elderly owners of the deli, got sandwiches and water bottles for himself and Beckett, and returned to Symphony Hall.

With the orchestra gone and the chorus not expected for another hour, it was quiet in the huge performance space, his footsteps ringing out dramatically as he strode down the center aisle. He slowed, letting the majesty of the concert hall surround him. This building was over a hundred years old and had seen countless performances ... and now one murder. Well, at least one; who knew what other secrets the old walls might be hiding? He smiled to himself, enjoying the thought.

Not to his surprise, he found Beckett in the library again, studying more violin music. She accepted the sandwich and water from him with a quiet word of thanks, and put aside her work to eat. Castle pulled out a chair and sat across from her at the large wooden table.

"I was thinking about how to identify our murderous soprano," he said as he unwrapped his sandwich. Beckett looked up, her mouth already full with her first bite, so all she could do was roll her eyes. He chose to take it as her cue for him to continue.

"I think our best bet is the little old ladies," he went on. "I noticed that there are a few older women in the soprano section who all sit together in a clump, and I bet they know all the gossip. They're the ones to ask. They'll definitely know which soprano has been losing auditions to Annabel lately."

Beckett swallowed her mouthful and said, "I'll leave that to you, Castle. I'm sure you can charm all the secrets out of the little old ladies." She smirked a little and added, "I'm warning you right now, though, some of those dames aren't as sweet and gentle as they might appear."

"I think I can handle a few elderly sopranos," he chuckled, and then, remembering, "Oh yeah! I forgot to add the new suspect to the diagram."

"Diagram?" Beckett questioned, watching with lifted eyebrow as he opened his briefcase and pulled out his notebook. Flipping it open to a page already filled with small boxes and circles, he carefully drew in a new box and wrote "JEALOUS SOPRANO" in small but neat letters.

Beckett leaned forward across the table to peer at the notepad. "What is that, an outline of the murder?"

"Yeah," he said, abruptly losing his train of thought as he looked at Beckett. The way she was leaning over caused her sweater's neckline to hang open, giving him a good look at the tantalizing curves of her breasts. He cleared his throat and averted his eyes, saying, "Uh, I was just trying to make sure I had all the lines of inquiry straight, since it was starting to get pretty complicated."

Beckett sat back in her chair - he wasn't sure whether to feel relieved or disappointed - and narrowed her eyes at him. "The homicide detectives use something like that in the precinct," she commented. "They have a whiteboard where they write it all out."

"Really?" He bounced in his chair at the thought. "That's so cool. I just based it on the way I usually outline my operas."

Beckett reached out and snagged the corner of the notebook with her fingertips, drawing it closer to her, studying it as she took another bite of her sandwich. Castle concentrated on his own food for a moment, waiting for her to comment.

At last she pushed the notebook back over toward him, saying merely, "So this is how you've been spending your time? Don't you have anything better to do?"

"Actually, I'm working on a new opera," he shot back, slightly stung. Her eyebrows went up again.

"Really? Another one in the Storm series?"

"Nope. This is something different," he said, and quickly changed the subject. "So, we have our three suspects, but we only have a plan for two of them. We need to figure out what to do about Brett the tenor and his illicit affair with Annabel."

" _Alleged_ affair," Beckett corrected. "And what do you mean by 'we'? I keep telling you that neither of us should be poking our noses into this."

"Yeah, you do, but like I said, I don't listen," he replied cheekily. "Anyway, you don't have to do anything except point out which bass is Daniel the lawyer. Then I'll talk to him, and the sopranos." He made some notes on his diagram. "As for Brett, I guess we'll probably have to wait until tomorrow. He'll be here for the dress rehearsal so we can talk to him then." Seeing Beckett drawing breath to object, he quickly added, "Yes, yes, I said 'we.' Come on, Beckett, admit it, you're enjoying this investigation."

"It's not something to enjoy," she huffed. "A woman is _dead_ , and we should be leaving it to the police. They know what they're doing, unlike us."

"Aw, that's not fair. We know what we're doing," he objected. "We're asking questions and gathering information."

"And jumping to conclusions and spinning wild theories," she shot back, but there was humor in her eyes, which drew a helpless grin to his face.

"Well, sure," he said agreeably. "Every good investigator has to start somewhere." He nodded toward Beckett's half-eaten sandwich. "Now finish your lunch, Beckett. We still have a rehearsal to conduct, you know."

She snorted and shook her head, but she picked up the sandwich and took another bite.

For a few minutes there was comfortable silence between them as they ate.

When Beckett spoke again, her tone was low and solemn, making Castle's breath catch in his throat even before his brain processed the words.

"Do you know why my mom killed herself?" she said.

He lifted his head to stare at her, and found her gaze fixed on her hands, clasped around the last remnants of her sandwich on the table.

"Because she had cancer?" he said hesitantly, not sure how to handle this unexpectedly melancholy moment.

Beckett moved her head up and down, the tiniest of nods. "Not just any cancer," she said after a moment. "She had throat cancer."

"Oh no," he let out, stunned. For a singer, there could be no worse news. The back of his neck prickled with horror at the thought of how that revelation must have felt: to Johanna, to her family.

"It was in her larynx," Beckett went on, still speaking in that low, measured voice, tightly controlled. "And the thing of it is, it was completely treatable. She would have needed surgery, but it was straightforward. The doctors gave her an 85% chance of survival." She looked up suddenly, and her eyes snapped fire. Castle gasped a little at the raw emotion he saw there, rocking back in his chair.

"God, Beckett."

"Eighty-five percent," she repeated harshly, her control breaking. "She would have been fine."

"But she wouldn't have been able to sing," he guessed, his heart twisting painfully. She nodded again, short and sharp.

"But she wouldn't have been able to sing," she repeated, confirming. "And she couldn't handle that." Anguish surged across her face again. "She chose music over me, my dad. We weren't enough. _I_ wasn't enough."

"No," he burst out, involuntarily. The pain behind the words was almost unbearable. "No, Beckett, you can't think that way."

"It's the truth," she snapped, glaring at him, her eyes shining with unshed tears. "If I had been a better daughter. If I hadn't been planning to be a singer. She could have loved me more. She could have stayed."

"This is why you stopped singing," Castle gasped, feeling weak with horror and sorrow at the revelation. "Oh, Beckett." The wide table between them felt like a gulf he couldn't cross. He ached for the wounds she was still trying to heal, all these years later.

"I don't-" But Beckett cut herself off, blinking hard to hold off the tears, breathing deeply and carefully. He watched her pull control back around herself, consciously un-clenching her jaw, slowly lowering her hunched shoulders. She dropped the bits of sandwich and raised her hands to her face, rubbing fingertips hard over her forehead.

"Beckett," he said urgently, before she could have the chance to go on, to say something minimizing or self-deprecating - before she could close off the possibility. "I get it, Beckett, I do, but listen, you love to sing. I barely know you, but I know that." He was the one leaning forward now, halfway across the table, pushing himself into her line of sight, desperate to impress his words upon her. "You wouldn't have applied and been accepted to the vocal performance program at Juilliard if you didn't love it. They wouldn't have taken you just because you were her daughter - you had to have the talent and the passion. You had it back then, and that doesn't just go away. You still love to sing."

"You're right, you barely know me," she said, but there was no fire in it now. She wiped her eyes with her fingers.

"I know enough," he insisted. "I'm not wrong about this. You have an amazing voice, and singing is part of you. It's in your veins." He should stop. He should shut up, but he couldn't. "And I can see that-that you're still hurting from what your mom did. But you know what, you're stronger than she was."

Her head came up sharply at that. "What?" she said, a dangerous edge creeping back into her tone, but Castle, as usual, ignored it and forged on.

"Yeah, you heard me, Kate. If your mother wasn't able to see how important you were - if she didn't think she could go on living without music - she was weak." Abruptly he remembered Alexis's words: _a parent should be stronger than that_. He felt a strange stab of anger toward Johanna Beckett. The prospect of watching her daughter build a career as a singer, after her own career had been destroyed by illness, must have been agony for Johanna - he could envision writing a whole opera about that alone - but the solution she had chosen was no solution at all.

"She was weak," he said again, firmly. "What she did, that's not on you. It's not your fault."

She scoffed, looking away, and he thought, _Stupid, Rick. Like she's never heard that one before._

"Stop it," she said, without heat. "You don't - I just wanted you to know, Castle, so you would understand what you're - what you're digging up."

"I do understand. I mean, I think I do," he amended, because what did he really know about these powerful emotions she was living with? "But I saw you singing along, Beckett."

"What?" She blinked at him, startled, almost like a deer in the headlights for an instant. "When?"

"Just now, during the rehearsal." He gestured vaguely in the direction of the stage. "When we did the soprano solos at the end, with the orchestra. You were singing along, or at least lip-syncing."

Beckett paused and bit her lip. "Castle..."

"You want to do it, Beckett. I might even go so far as to say you need to do it." He studied her for a moment. "You told Howard that we'll have a solution in time for tomorrow's rehearsal. Why did you say that?"

She sighed softly, started to speak, stopped. She chewed on her lower lip, and Castle subsided, suddenly slumping back in his seat, wondering if he had far too badly overstepped, and pushed her back into her shell. He closed his eyes briefly, berating himself for it.

"I'm close," Beckett's voice came into his ears, very low. "I just need a little more time."

He opened his eyes again and looked at her, but she wouldn't meet his gaze.

"Well," he said, carefully lightening his tone, "you have about twenty-four hours, Beckett. We'll have to tell them something at the dress rehearsal. So I hope that's enough time to overcome a decade's worth of personal trauma."

He held his breath then, not at all sure that humor had been the right way to go. But after a long moment, she flashed him a small wan smile, and he deflated in relief.

Beckett seemed about to speak again, but just then a young man appeared in the library doorway, his cheeks flushed pink from the cold, his eyes a little wild. "Kate! I have to talk to you," he gasped. From behind him, Castle could hear the sounds of the chorus members beginning to arrive for the rehearsal.

"Come on in, Jason," Beckett said, suddenly cool and utterly composed again. Castle stared at her, wondering how the hell she did it.

The young man stepped into the room, closing the door behind him. "It's about Brett. Brett Donovan."

Beckett and Castle exchanged a look. _Aha_ , he thought, _we're back on the case._ He had to suppress a grin of excitement.

"What about Brett?" Beckett asked. "Oh, uh, Jason, you know Maestro Castle."

"Of course." Jason put out his hand. "Jason Butler, from the tenor section. It's an honor, sir."

"No, please, the honor is mine," Castle said, shaking Jason's hand. "But go on, you were going to say something about the tenor soloist."

"Yeah." Jason fidgeted, fiddled with the zipper on his jacket, clearly nervous. "Um. I heard a rumor that you guys had, uh, I mean, that people are saying Brett was arguing with Annabel just before she died."

"We did hear something like that," Beckett agreed cautiously. "Do you know more about that argument?"

"Yeah, uh, yeah." Jason couldn't meet their eyes. Castle looked at Beckett again, silently asking whether she knew what was up. She shrugged in response, and focused back in on the young tenor.

"It's okay, Jason, you can tell us. Is it something to do with the affair?"

"You know about that?" he gasped, looking stricken. "Oh God. Brett was right. He said you would think he did it."

"You've talked to Brett?" Castle asked. It came into his mind that this was probably one of the more difficult parts of a homicide detective's job: interviewing people who had information but who wouldn't, or couldn't, just come out with it. It was frustrating, but he knew that he and Beckett would have to be patient with the jittery young tenor.

"Well, yeah. Of course," Jason said, looking surprised. "I, he, well." He paused for a calming breath. "He told me that he argued with Annabel, on Tuesday, about the affair, and when he realized that she got ki - killed not long after that, he said that people would think he did it."

"Did he tell you what the argument was about, specifically?" Beckett asked. She spoke carefully, calmly, setting an example for the young man. Castle was struck all over again by how good she was at this: putting people at ease.

"Yeah, you know," Jason said, gesturing vaguely, "Annabel wanted him to tell his wife about the affair. She was tired of keeping the secret - it was really bothering her, because Jessica is her friend too. Brett's wife," he clarified, seeing their blank looks.

Annabel was friends with the wife? Castle thought. That was weird. "Maybe she should have thought about that before she started the affair then," he couldn't help saying. Beckett glared at him, but Jason just looked utterly confused.

"Wait, what?" the young man asked, his brow furrowing.

"What what?" Castle asked, equally confused. They both turned to look at Beckett, as if somehow she held all the answers.

"Annabel was friends with Brett's wife before the affair started?" Beckett prompted. Jason shrugged, still confused.

"Yeah, so? What does that have to do with anything?"

"Well, you have to admit, if Brett was having an affair with his wife's friend, that does look pretty bad for him when she turns up dead," Beckett said, but Jason blinked and stared and blinked some more.

"What are you talking about?" he demanded. "Brett wasn't having an affair with Annabel, that's crazy."

"But you said-" Castle burst out, only to be interrupted by Jason again.

"No, oh shit, is that what you thought? Oh God. I get it, okay, I get it," he babbled. "Okay, but no, Brett wasn't sleeping with Annabel. He's been sleeping with _me_."

A lengthy moment of silence stretched between them as Castle and Beckett slowly assimilated this. Castle let out a long "Ohhh" as it sank in.

"Okay," Beckett said slowly. "Jason, I'm sorry, obviously we all confused each other. Let's start over, okay?"

"Sure," the young tenor nodded, fiddling with his coat again, still nervous.

"So," Beckett went on, "you and Brett were ... involved ... and Annabel found out."

"Right," Jason agreed quickly. "And he asked her to just keep quiet while he figured out what to do. But I guess she finally decided she couldn't stand keeping the secret from Jessica any more. So, on Tuesday, she said that he needed to tell Jessica by the end of that day, or else she was going to call her first thing in the morning."

Castle looked at Beckett. She met his eyes, and he could see that she was thinking the same thing he was: that this new information only made Brett sound more guilty. If Annabel had given him an ultimatum...

"Jason," Beckett said carefully, "after the argument, what did Brett do? Where did he go? Do you know?"

"Yeah, of course." The young man looked surprised. "He met up with me. That's why he was here in the first place, to pick me up when the chorus rehearsal ended. He didn't know that Annabel would be here."

"So he was with you that whole time?" Castle asked. "From right after the end of the rehearsal until..."

"Until about midnight," Jason supplied, blushing. "Yeah, uh, he was with me that whole time, at, uh," he blushed some more and mumbled, "at a hotel a few blocks away."

"Oh," Castle said. "Um."

"Okay," Beckett said, and Castle could only bring himself to look at her sideways right now, but she seemed amused. "Jason, thanks very much for coming to us with this. It's good information for us to have." She paused, and added, "You should probably tell the police about this, too. You can call them anonymously if you have to."

"Yeah. Uh, okay, I'll see if I can do that," Jason nodded. "Um, thanks." Abruptly he twisted the doorknob, pulled the door open, and fled.

Castle finally turned to look at Beckett, and found that she had her lips pressed together tightly, as if trying to hold back a grin. "What's so funny?" he demanded.

"Nothing. Nothing," she denied, shaking her head, clearing her throat. "Um, but at least it looks like we can cross off one suspect from our list, doesn't it?"

"Oh. Yeah." Castle grabbed for his notebook and studied it for a moment. "I guess Brett's alibi is pretty solid then." He picked up his pencil and drew a large X through the box containing Brett's name. "One down, two to go."

"And it's time for the chorus rehearsal to begin," Beckett added. "Come on, Castle, we've got work to do."


	11. Chapter 11

_When you know the notes to sing_  
_You can sing most anything._  
-Oscar Hammerstein II

Beckett's stomach churned as she went back out onto the stage for the chorus rehearsal. The conversation with Castle had left her with a whirling collection of emotions that she just couldn't deal with right now.

Standing at the piano, she arranged her score book on the music stand and flipped the pages, watching from the corner of her eye as Castle greeted the singers and made his way as casually as he could manage to the front-row seats where the group of older sopranos always sat.

Her decision to open up to Castle about her mother's suicide had surprised her as much as it had him; it certainly wasn't something she had thought about in advance, but it had felt right, in the moment.

During the orchestra rehearsal earlier today, when they had run through the soprano solos, Kate had experienced a sudden moment of clarity, realizing with her conscious mind what her hindbrain had already decided: that she was going to sing the solos. Somehow, over the past day, ever since Castle had first put the idea into her mind, her subconscious had chewed it over and come to a decision, even while consciously she had still been denying it, resisting it.

But it made sense that it would be during the rehearsal - when, as Castle had noticed, she had been silently mouthing the soprano solo part while playing the music - that her subconscious chose to make its decision known. In that moment she had realized the same things Castle had just said to her in the library: that she loved singing, and that she loved these particular pieces especially, and that she couldn't let the _Messiah_ concert go on without them.

And, perhaps, that after ten years it might finally be time to start healing these lingering emotional wounds; to open herself back up to the possibility of a career as a singer; to absolve herself of needless guilt; to forgive her mother. To move on.

All of these things had been swirling through her mind since the orchestra rehearsal ended, and had come to a head when Castle sat down for lunch with her. She needed Castle to know; if she was going to attempt the solos, she needed him to be in the right frame of mind, to refrain from making light of it. She needed him to understand what it would cost her.

She had only known him a few days, but she had already seen glimpses of the more serious, sensitive side of him underneath the cocky clowning exterior. So she thought - she hoped - that he would be able to understand everything she was trying to tell him.

Mulling over all of this, she somehow managed to greet the chorus members who passed by the piano on the way to their seats, and to answer the questions that came her way; she caught sight of Jason standing among the tenors, resolutely not meeting her eye, and Lanie among the altos, being chattered at by her neighbors, giving Kate a smile and wave. She smiled back, and turned to check on Castle again. He was still deep in conversation with the sopranos, and it was time for the rehearsal to begin. Kate wondered whether it would be appropriate for her to start the warm-ups while Castle was still chatting.

But just as that thought went through her mind, Castle broke away, disentangling himself from the conversation with the white-haired women. He came back across the stage to where Beckett was standing by the piano.

"They identified the one who kept losing roles to Annabel," he told her under his breath; "her name is Sara, third row, on the right, in the yellow shirt. _And_ they said that she left Tuesday's rehearsal early."

"We should get started" was all Beckett said, but her eyes were seeking out the yellow shirt, and making note of Sara, studying her. Wondering: was this the face of a murderer? Was a lost job opportunity, or even a series of them, really a strong enough motive to drive someone to kill? She supposed that someone like Detective Gates had probably seen it all, the reasons for murder both profound and banal. But to Kate Beckett, it was all still strange and mystifying.

* * *

Castle had found it easy to worm his way into the good graces of the older sopranos, who seemed delighted that he had come to talk to them. The two he had in mind had been bickering when he got there, and were only too happy to refocus their attention on him.

He had their types pegged already: Doris, the one with the short white hair, was a complainer, never fully satisfied, always able to find something to grouse about; while Judith, the tall one with white hair in a long braid all the way down her back, was the more helpful and accommodating type, but with a steely core.

"It's been a wonderful week working with you ladies," he began, flashing a charming smile that got them both smiling back. "I hope you're enjoying it as well."

"Yes, it's been great," Judith smiled back. "And you're a lot easier on the eyes than Perlmutter, Maestro," she added, nudging him with her elbow.

"It's just too bad we aren't doing _Behold The Lamb_ ," fussed Doris, peering earnestly up at him. "That one is so lovely, isn't it? When we do Messiah with my church choir-"

"Shut up, Doris. Maestro Castle doesn't care about your church choir," Judith interrupted sharply, and Castle's eyebrows rose in amusement. Doris didn't seem fazed at all.

"Well, anyway, we're delighted to have you, Maestro," she said. "The concerts are going to be lovely. Such a shame about Annabel, though. She was a dear."

"Oh yes, very sweet," Judith agreed. "Her best friend's brother was in my second-grade class back when I used to teach."

"You know," said Castle, quickly seizing the conversational opening, "speaking of Annabel, I heard that she had been getting a lot of roles recently that other sopranos in this chorus had auditioned for."

"Ah," said Doris knowingly. "You must mean Megan."

"Are you toking again?" Judith demanded of her friend. "Megan hasn't auditioned for a thing since she got pregnant." Both women turned to smile in the direction of a soprano in the second row, whose hands were resting lightly on her rounded belly. "It's Sara you want, Maestro," Judith added, jerking her head significantly back to the left. "Up there in the third row."

"Oh, yes, of course, Sara," Doris agreed. "She's been auditioning like crazy lately."

"Never gonna happen," Judith said critically. "She's just not that good, but, you know, hope springs eternal. Speaking of which," she went on with a sly look, "how are things between you and Kate, Maestro?"

"Um, I'm not sure what you mean," he lied, and hastily changed the subject, "but are you sure that Sara had auditioned for parts that Annabel ended up getting recently?"

"Certainly, several of them," Doris nodded, "oh, and Maestro, if you're going to talk to her about that, would you say something to her about leaving rehearsals early? I don't like to make a fuss, but it's so disrespectful. She left early on Tuesday, as a matter of fact."

Castle's interest was piqued, but he kept his cool. "You don't say?" he asked mildly. "She left our rehearsal early on Tuesday?"

"Only about fifteen minutes early," Judith said, "but people do notice these things, you know, especially if you're all the way in the middle of the row."

"Right, of course." Castle tilted his head, digesting this. "Well, I'll certainly keep it in mind. Thank you both, ladies. It's been such a pleasure chatting with you."

He moved to depart, but Judith's hand closed firmly around his forearm, stopping him. He turned back to her again, raising his eyebrows questioningly.

"Maestro," the white-haired woman said, and he quailed at her stern tone, which she had undoubtedly perfected over her many years of teaching the second grade. "You seem like a nice young man, and goodness knows our Kate could use some fun in her life. But just keep in mind: if you break her heart, we will make you suffer."

"Severely," added Doris, nodding, with a gentle smile.

Castle opened his mouth, then closed it, completely at a loss for words. All he could do was nod and walk away.

* * *

Beckett kept an eye on Castle as he moved to take his position behind his music stand, the chorus quieting as they saw him preparing to begin. Kate thought that he seemed slightly rattled from his conversation with the sopranos - more so than would be explained by learning that their suspect had left the stage early on the day Annabel was killed - but then again, she told herself, maybe she was just imagining things. Maybe it was as hard for Castle as it was for her to envision someone like Sara committing murder.

"Okay, everyone," Castle said, "let's get warmed up." He nodded to Kate, and she began leading the chorus through some light stretches and then a series of breathing and singing exercises.

When they were done warming up, Castle gave the chorus a version of the same little speech he had given the orchestra earlier, acknowledging Annabel's death and refocusing the group on the task at hand. Then he said, "I'd like to start at the end today, and work our way backwards. Can everyone turn to the Amen section, please?"

The _Amen_ at the very end of _Messiah_ was long and complex, and Kate admired Castle's strategy, leading off with that movement at the beginning of the rehearsal while the chorus members were still fresh. Castle stopped them repeatedly as they worked through the movement, and no one complained; the difficult spots needed to be addressed. By the time they went back to the beginning of _Worthy is the Lamb_ and ran through that movement and the _Amen_ without stopping, all of the singers were nodding their heads in satisfaction, pleased with the progress they had made.

Kate caught Lanie giving her a look that seemed to say _maybe he does know what he's doing after all_ , to which she responded with a small smile and an even smaller nod.

The next chorus, in reverse order, was _Hallelujah_ , which Castle decided to skip; a few chorus members groaned disappointment, but it made sense. Most of the singers had sung that particular piece dozens of times and could probably perform it in their sleep.

So they did _Lift Up Your Heads_ , and then _His Yoke Is Easy_ , and then it was time to break.

"Fifteen minutes, everyone," Castle said, and made a beeline for the bass section as the chorus members began to disperse off the risers.

Kate hastened to catch up with him, grabbing his elbow. "Castle, watch your step."

"I know how to navigate stairs, Beckett," he replied with a small mischievous smile. She narrowed her eyes at him.

"That's not what I meant and you know it," she hissed.

"Don't worry about me and Daniel," Castle said confidently. "You take point on the soprano, Sara. Find out her alibi, if she has one." Catching her glare, realizing his error in trying to give her orders, he added hastily, "Please? Um. I meant to say, hey Beckett, if you wouldn't mind-"

"Okay, okay," she sighed, rolling her eyes. "But only because if I don't do it, you'll bother her yourself."

He just grinned. "We make a great team, don't we?"

"Shut up."

So Beckett made her way between the gathered singers until she found Sara, who was eating an apple and chatting with a few others. "Can I talk to you for a moment?" Beckett said quietly, and Sara detached herself from her friends to step aside with Kate.

"Sara, I heard that you slipped out early on Tuesday," Kate began, and saw the other woman's eyes widen.

"Yeah, I did," she confirmed, a little nervously. "Um, is that a problem?"

Kate realized belatedly that she had made it sound like she was about to scold Sara for cutting out on the rehearsal. But some instinct told her that immediately reassuring Sara wouldn't be the right move, so instead she pressed on it.

"Do you want to tell me where you went?" she asked, folding her arms over her chest very deliberately.

"Of course," Sara said quickly, her apprehension growing. "I'm really sorry. _Really_ sorry. But I had gotten an audition and it was the only time they could hear me. Do you know Mario Ribeiro? He's this amazing director," she babbled anxiously, "and he's doing this off-Broadway production of _Into The Woods_ , and I'm really hoping to be Cinderella."

"I see," said Kate, keeping her expression neutral. She was remembering a common interrogation technique that she had learned about during her detective obsession phase in her teens: the trick of creating a silence in a conversation, to encourage the other person to fill it.

"Have they found someone to do the soprano solos for this concert?" Sara asked, still looking very nervous, searching Kate's face for her reaction. "It's so awful about Annabel, isn't it?"

"Terrible," Kate agreed, and waited again.

It worked. "I would have loved to be considered for it myself," Sara rattled on, "but actually I won't be able to come to the last concert on Sunday. My brother's getting married that day." Still getting no reaction from Kate, she spoke faster, anxious. "I asked Perlmutter about it way back in the spring and he said it was fine if I skipped that one concert, since I'm just in the chorus. But obviously I couldn't do the solos, so I didn't even consider it. Is that okay?"

"It's fine," Kate said, relenting. "Don't worry about it, Sara. Just, if you're going to miss a rehearsal or performance in the future, please make sure to tell me ahead of time."

"Oh, I will. I will, I promise," Sara gasped, relieved. "Thanks, Kate."

"Good luck with that audition," Kate added, distractedly, turning away.

She knew that a good detective never ruled out a suspect based on that person's word alone, but she found Sara's excuses fairly convincing. Kate made a mental note to pass along this information to Detective Gates; the police could probably contact the director to confirm that Sara had been auditioning at the time of Annabel's death.

In her mind, Kate envisioned Castle's diagram of the murder investigation, with Brett's name crossed off. Now she mentally drew an X through the "jealous soprano" box as well, leaving them again with just one suspect: Howard Grainger. But could Howard really have done it, she wondered for the umpteenth time - killed a soloist over a contract dispute?

"Get anything?" asked Castle's voice from directly behind her, and she jumped, startled.

"Don't sneak up on me like that!" she snapped.

"Sorry," he shrugged, looking anything but. "You were deep in thought there, Beckett. Is Sara our killer? She looks so simple and innocent, which of course makes her a great suspect."

"No, I hate to burst your bubble, but I don't think she is." Kate told him about the audition, and he frowned, rubbing his chin.

"That shouldn't be too hard to verify," he mused. "I've heard of this director, Ribeiro. I know a guy - I could give him a call."

"And say what? That you're investigating a singer for playing hooky from the last fifteen minutes of a rehearsal?" Beckett shook her head at him. "Castle, it's none of your business to make that call. Let the police do it."

"But what if the director gets spooked by having the police call about Sara, and it loses her the part?" he pointed out, putting on his innocent face. "Would you want to be responsible for that, Beckett?"

"Oh God," she sighed, rolling her eyes, "just tell me what Daniel said about Annabel's contract."

"He wouldn't say anything," Castle complained, frowning again. "Invoked attorney-client privilege, and when I said that I think that stops being applicable after the client dies, he asked me what law school I went to."

Beckett couldn't hold back a snort. "Well, you deserved that."

"Maybe, but the suspense is killing me, Beckett." He followed her back onto the stage, lowering his voice. "Isn't it driving you crazy not having this one crucial piece of information, about Annabel and Howard and the contract dispute? What are we going to do?"

"We're going to finish rehearsing," she replied firmly, and gave him a tight-lipped glare when he opened his mouth to object. It worked; he snapped his mouth shut again, though he was still scowling.

The rehearsal resumed, with _Glory to God_ and then _For Unto Us_. Beckett noticed Daniel giving Castle a baleful glare from the middle of the bass section; she wondered what Castle had said.

After they had finished running through all of the choruses in reverse order, Castle again asked the singers to call out the spots they wanted to work on, and he managed to get through all of them before the time was up.

"Great work, everyone, really great," Castle said enthusiastically as the chorus members closed their scores. "I'm feeling good about these concerts and I hope you are too. I'll see you all back here tomorrow for the dress rehearsal."

* * *

Castle was grateful that there weren't as many people as usual coming to him and Beckett with miscellaneous questions after the rehearsal was over. He needed to talk to her, badly.

Only a few minutes after he called the rehearsal to an end, the hall had mostly cleared out, with just a few chorus members left gathering up their belongings. Castle was alone on the stage with Beckett as she made some final notes in her score.

"Listen," he began without preamble, "I'm sorry for what I said earlier, about your mom. I was out of line."

Beckett's hands stilled. She looked at him, guarded.

"I shouldn't have said she was weak," he went on. "I, it was, that was wrong of me. I apologize."

It had been bothering him throughout the rehearsal. He was no expert on suicide, but he knew that it was never simple; he had said as much to Alexis the other night. He didn't want Kate to think he was minimizing her mother's struggle by dismissing her as weak or selfish. In the moment, he had reacted strongly to Kate's pain, but in retrospect he regretted having passed judgment on Johanna's.

He held Kate's gaze and hoped that all of this came through in his eyes.

She drew in a slow breath and said quietly, "It's okay."

Castle felt his shoulders slump in relief and realized that he had been honestly worried about how she would react. What was this woman doing to him?

He opened his mouth, undoubtedly to say something else stupid and damaging, but before he could get a word out, he noticed two fiery-bright heads coming down the aisle of the performance hall.

"Dad!" one of them was calling, waving a pale hand, and he realized it was his mother and daughter.

"Alexis? What are you doing here?" He went over to the edge of the stage, looking down at his redheads.

"We came to get you for dinner," his daughter replied, coming up the stairs onto the stage and hugging him. "Wow, this is a beautiful hall. Have we been here?"

" _Dido and Aeneas_ a few years ago," Martha said, ascending the stage as well. "Darling, aren't you going to introduce us?" she added with a nudge as she accepted Castle's kiss on her cheek.

"Mrs. Rodgers, it's an honor to meet you," Beckett said sincerely, coming forward with her hand out. "I'm Kate Beckett."

"Ahh, Ms. Beckett." Martha flashed a knowing look from Beckett to Castle and back as she took Kate's hand. "So lovely to meet you at last. We've heard so much about you."

"Oh, really?" Beckett said, pursing her lips, narrowing her eyes at Castle.

"And this is my daughter, Alexis," he said quickly, thrusting the teen in front of him like a shield. "Alexis, Kate."

"Nice to meet you," Alexis said politely, shaking Kate's hand. "I hope my dad has been behaving himself this week." She cast a glance over her shoulder at him. "Sometimes it helps if you just smack him."

"I've noticed that," Beckett replied, a real smile breaking loose now. "But no, he has been pretty good, mostly."

"Mostly!" he exclaimed in outrage, but wilted immediately under the combined force of Alexis's and Beckett's glares.

"Anyway, Richard, we thought you'd be hungry," Martha cut in, "so we came to fetch you, and we've a reservation at Antonio's..." She glanced at her watch. "...now-ish. Are you ready, darling?"

"Oh, um, yes," he said, a little awkwardly, wishing he had had just one more minute alone with Beckett to make sure things were okay between them. "Uh, let me just get my briefcase."

"You should join us, Ms. Beckett," Alexis said earnestly. "I'm sure you need to eat too, and we'd love to chat with you."

Castle's eyebrows went up, but he managed to keep his mouth shut and wait for Beckett's response. When he saw her smile back at Alexis, he was filled with an overwhelming surge of gratitude toward the universe for giving him this perfect, wonderful child. He knew Beckett would never have accepted a dinner invitation that had come from him, but who could say no to Alexis?

"Thank you, that sounds nice," Beckett said, and his heart soared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have sat next to the real-life Judith and Doris (not their real names) in community choir for nearly 15 years now. They always keep things interesting and I couldn't resist putting them in here. I hope you enjoyed them. :)


	12. Chapter 12

_I'm fascinated by musicians who don't completely understand their territory; that's when you do your best work._  
\- Brian Eno

Beckett was charmed by Castle's daughter, who seemed to be astonishingly sensible and level-headed considering her origins. On the short ride in the town car to the restaurant, Alexis chattered away about her school day and her debate team meeting. Kate was impressed by how tuned-in Castle was; from the questions and comments he put in, it was clear that he knew all of his daughter's friends and teachers, and the subjects she was studying, including her debate topics.

Soon enough they were at Antonio's - where Martha Rodgers, the well-known stage actress, was greeted like a queen - and settled in at a private table in the corner, looking at menus while Martha perused the wine list. "What do you like, Katherine, dear?" she asked. "Red or white?"

"Red, please," Kate replied, although she didn't plan to drink much. She observed with some interest how the waitstaff fawned over Martha, and how Castle winced and fidgeted in his seat when his mother flirted back flamboyantly.

"How were the rehearsals today, Ms. Beckett?" Alexis asked Kate politely, after ordering had been taken care of.

"Oh - fine," Kate replied. "And please, call me Kate. Do you know _Messiah_ well, Alexis?"

"No, but Dad has been playing it nonstop at home," the girl said. "Or, he was, until he started this new opera."

"Oh yeah, he mentioned that," said Kate, looking over at Castle, who looked oddly nervous, his eyes guarded. "So he's been working on it a lot, huh?"

"Up till all hours the last few nights," Alexis nodded. "But he still won't tell me what it's about. What's up with that, Dad?"

"Just not ready to talk about it yet," he mumbled, avoiding their eyes. "Mother, how did your show go last night?"

Martha launched into a lengthy story about a wardrobe malfunction and backstage drama involving several of her costars and a costume designer, which got them all laughing. But Kate hadn't missed how quickly Castle had changed the subject when his new opera came up.

The conversation flowed naturally, and, as they were all finishing off their appetizers, Alexis got up the nerve to turn to Kate and say tentatively, "I was really sorry to hear about what happened with your mom."

"Oh - thank you," Kate said, a little awkwardly, wondering how much Alexis knew and what was appropriate to share with a teenager, albeit a particularly mature one. She saw Castle holding his breath, watching her anxiously, clearly hoping that his daughter wasn't upsetting her. She gave him a small reassuring smile and saw him relax slightly.

"It must have been really hard for you," Alexis added quietly. "I hardly ever see my mom, but at least I know she's there."

"Yeah," Kate said, taking a fortifying sip of her wine. "It was hard. But I had my dad, like you have yours."

"Yeah," Alexis agreed, flashing a brilliant smile at her father. He smiled back and Kate felt an unaccountable flutter in her chest. Seeing Castle interact with his daughter was ... unsettling. It was a whole new side of him.

"So, Katherine," Martha interjected, "tell us more about yourself, dear. Are you seeing anyone?"

" _Mother_ ," Castle groaned, and Kate couldn't help smirking, enjoying his discomfiture.

"What, darling? I'm just making polite conversation," Martha declared, but her eyes sparkled with merriment.

Kate considered deflecting the question, but she knew Castle would pick up on that, so she said merely "No, my life is pretty busy and I don't have much time for dating."

"I see," said Martha shrewdly, and Kate couldn't even bring herself to look at Castle.

So instead she turned to Alexis and asked, "What about you, Alexis? Any cute boys in your life?"

Alexis turned pink and giggly, and Kate was able to glance over at Castle now, biting her lip with amusement at the look of outrage he was directing at her. He clearly didn't want to think about his daughter dating.

Kate smirked at him and pretended not to notice the way Martha was looking at them both.

Fortunately, talk of Alexis's male acquaintances led Martha into another series of anecdotes, and the conversation moved on.

* * *

As the town car pulled up outside Kate's building, she said, "Thank you all for having me along to dinner. It was nice meeting you, Alexis, Martha."

"The pleasure was ours, darling," Martha replied. "I hope you'll join us again soon."

"Dad will walk you to the door," Alexis added, giving Castle a significant look, and he startled and reached for his seatbelt buckle.

"Oh, uh, yes, of course," he stammered. Kate suppressed a grin, unbuckling her seatbelt as well, and was surprised when Alexis leaned over to give her a quick hug.

"It was great to meet you," the girl said, and Kate smiled at her.

"You too. See you at the concert."

Castle held the car door for her as she gathered up her bag and violin case, and then he walked beside her to the front door.

"That's a great kid you've got," she said as they came to the entrance of her building.

"Yeah," he agreed, his face lighting up. "Somehow she's turned out well, despite all my efforts."

"Oh, don't sell yourself short, Castle. You must have had something to do with it." She grinned and added, "You contributed some genes, at least. Maybe the good sense and competence skip a generation." She paused, glancing back at the car, and amended, "Or two."

Castle snorted a short laugh, acknowledging the jab. "Thanks for coming to dinner, Beckett. It was nice."

She frowned a little, pondering the implications of that, but before she could respond, he added, "And I really am sorry about-"

"Castle," she forestalled him, lifting a hand. "It's fine. Don't worry about it."

He tilted his head to one side, scrutinizing her expression. "You're sure?"

"Yeah."

"Beckett," he sighed, rubbing his forehead. "The murder case - and the solos - the dress rehearsal tomorrow."

"Is there a question in there somewhere?" she laughed softly, her smile widening when he huffed. "Castle, your family is waiting. You should go. We'll figure everything out tomorrow."

"Everything?" He perked up. "Even the murder?"

"Ugh!" she groaned. "Listen ... just come to Symphony Hall in the morning, and we'll call Detective Gates. We have to make sure she has all of the information we've collected, and she - What?" she demanded, seeing Castle's gleeful grin.

"You said 'we,'" he pointed out, his eyes twinkling. Kate groaned again.

"Don't get any big ideas," she said, but then she thought about his mother and daughter in the car, waiting, and probably watching them - Kate resisted the urge to glance over and confirm - and the corners of her mouth twitched upward mischievously.

"Thanks for a lovely evening, Castle," she said, and lifted herself up to brush her lips across his cheek.

Then she turned on her heel and opened the door, stepped inside her building, and let the door close behind her, not looking back.

* * *

Castle stood still on the front step of Beckett's building, stunned into immobility for a long moment. At last he snapped out of it, blinking, and hurried to walk back over to the waiting car.

As he caught sight of his mother's and daughter's faces, he groaned to himself, and it occurred to him that Beckett had set him up. That devious, infuriating woman! She had known exactly what he was in for when he got back into the car.

Yet, with the phantom impression of Beckett's lips still tingling on his cheek, he couldn't quite bring himself to care about the grilling he was about to experience.

In any case, it was just another on the long list of distractions taking up space in his head right now. It had been a busy day; between the numerous revelations they'd had about Annabel's murder, the searing shock of Beckett's disclosures about her mother, the rehearsals themselves, and the dinner, he had so much to think about it was making him dizzy. His mind raced the whole way home, as he sat in the car trying not to respond to his mother's just-shy-of-indecent innuendos and his daughter's excited questioning.

"I really liked her, Dad," Alexis said, gazing soulfully at him, her blue eyes wide and sincere. "She seems so smart, and nice, and interesting, and she doesn't take your crap."

"All true," he had to agree. "But there's nothing going on between me and Beckett, honey. We're just working together, and trying to solve this mystery, and-" He stopped cold, realizing what he had said, just as the two red heads whipped around to stare at him. Oops.

"What did you say? Solve what mystery?" Alexis demanded.

"Uh, wow, that linguine was excellent, wasn't it?" he tried, and winced when his daughter folded her arms across her chest and fixed him with a stern glare.

"Dad."

"Okay, listen, it's not a big deal. It just so happens Beckett is the person the performers always come to with their questions and stuff, so a lot of them have been giving us information about Annabel."

"The singer who got killed?" Alexis asked, her eyes wide. He sighed.

"Yeah ... So we've been getting all these clues and sort of, uh, investigating them."

"Investigating? Dad, you're not a cop. You're not even a mystery writer."

"I know, I know," he said, "and Beckett has reminded me of that fact at least a dozen times so far this week." He pouted, hoping Alexis would soften, but no such luck. "But as I keep telling her," he went on quickly, "there's no harm in it. We aren't interfering; we're just gathering facts, and passing along everything we find out to the police."

"Still," Martha said, frowning, "it sounds dangerous, and you're just supposed to be conducting, darling."

"I am!" he protested. "Really, the rehearsals have been pretty easy, because everyone knows the music so well. The concerts are going to be great. Even more so if Beckett will agree to sing the soprano solos."

"Sing?" Alexis asked. "I thought she was a violinist."

"She is, but she used to be a singer, before her mom died."

Much to his relief, the car pulled up to the curb alongside their building just then; Castle did not at all want to get into any more discussion about Beckett with his mother and daughter. As they got out of the car he could feel his mother's eyes on him, but he pretended not to notice, and whatever she might be thinking, she kept her own counsel.

Upstairs in the loft, he stood next to his piano, lost in thought. The tragedy of Johanna Beckett floated through his mind, and he saw webs of connection forming between her story and the one he was weaving in his new opera.

He would never dream of putting real-life details into his operas, but he could already see how the emotional core of Johanna's and Kate's story would suffuse the new narrative he was creating.

"Dad?" Alexis asked softly from the bottom of the stairs. "Are you going to be up all night composing again?"

"Hmm? Oh - probably," he replied distractedly, although he hadn't sat down yet. He went to the window and stared down at the glittering lights of the city, thinking.

Vaguely he was aware of his daughter calling goodnight, and his mouth making some kind of appropriate response, but his thoughts were a full twist of the space-time continuum away.

Eventually he pulled himself away from the window, sat down at the piano, and began.

* * *

When Kate let herself into her apartment, the phone was ringing. She quickly put down her purse and violin and made a dash to grab it before it went to voicemail.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Katie, it's Dad."

"Oh! Hi, Dad," she said warmly, kicking off her shoes and shucking her coat. "How's your week going?"

"Fine, just fine," Jim Beckett said. "Not much exciting going on right now. The holiday season is slow for litigation, you know."

"Right," she murmured. "It's always quiet for you this time of year."

"Yep, and always busy for you, so I just thought I'd check in. It's Messiah week, right?"

"Yeah. You're going to come, aren't you?"

"You know I never miss it," he said, and she could hear the smile in his voice, and she did know it was true. Jim always came to at least one performance from each concert series.

"Listen, Dad..." she began carefully, sinking down onto the couch. "There's something you should know, before you come to the concert."

"Is it about that soloist who got killed? Terrible business," he said soberly. "Did you know her well?"

"No, not really. But ... the thing is, they haven't been able to find a replacement to sing the soprano parts."

"Oh?" he said, and she could tell from his tone that he had no idea where this was going.

"Yeah, and, um ... the conductor ... suggested that I should sing them."

There was a long, heavy pause. When Jim spoke again, his voice was thick with restrained emotion, and Kate had to close her eyes and swallow hard. "Are you going to do it?" he asked.

"Um, I haven't really decided," she lied, her voice small, her throat tight. She heard her dad sigh unevenly.

"You don't have to lie to me, Katie. That isn't your 'I haven't decided' tone."

"Dad..." she got out, and her throat closed up again.

"You should do it," he burst out, the words coming quickly, fervent. "I, I think you should." Another short pause. "I would love to hear you sing again, baby."

A tear rolled down her cheek, and another. "Really? You wouldn't be..."

"No." His tone was firm now. "No, Katie, don't worry about me. You should do it. If you want to, I mean, and I think you do."

She sighed out a long slow breath. "Okay. I'll, I'll think about it. You'll come to the concert, though? Saturday at one. I'll leave a ticket for you at will-call."

"I wouldn't miss it."

Kate swiped the back of her hand across her eyes. "I love you, dad."

"Love you too, Katie."

After hanging up, Kate went into the bathroom and started the tub filling. Her eyes were still wet, but she felt better for having talked to her father and received his ... blessing? absolution? approval? Whatever it was, she hadn't realized that she needed it, but somehow Jim always seemed to know when to call.

She settled back into the bubbles and let her mind drift. But it wasn't her father, her mother, the music, or Annabel that came into her thoughts as the hot water loosened her muscles and weighted down her eyelids. It was Castle: the feel of his stubbled cheek under her lips, the smell of his aftershave, the look of surprise in his deep blue eyes when she had leaned up toward him.

She closed her eyes and firmly forced her focus back onto the music.

* * *

Castle sat at his piano for an hour or more, the music flowing freely out of him and onto the page.

When he finally blinked his way out of it and looked around, he found his mother sitting on the sofa opposite, a glass of brandy in her hand, watching him.

"Mother," he said, his voice raspy from the long period of concentration. He got up from his piano stool and went to the side table next to the sofa. As he poured a drink of his own, Martha silently held up her glass for him to refill.

"You're going to have to tell her," she said, low-voiced.

Castle winced, coming around the arm of the couch to sit down beside his mother. He didn't bother pretending not to know what she meant.

"I can't," he admitted, speaking toward the liquor, avoiding Martha's eyes. "Not yet."

"Oh, 'not yet' is a coward's phrase, my boy," the redhead pronounced, leaning forward to put her hand on his knee. "The sooner the better, Richard. That gal deserves to know what you're up to, making her story into an opera."

"It's not her story," he mumbled, wincing again as he heard himself making weak excuses.

"It's her, though, darling," Martha said gravely. "Her character, her personality." She waited until he looked up at her. "Her ... soul. Isn't it?"

Castle sighed deeply. "I can't help it, Mother. She's ... extraordinary. I can't get her out of my head. Her, or this opera."

"I can see that," Martha murmured. "And that's why you need to tell her, Richard. The sooner the better."

* * *

On Friday morning Kate woke up early as usual and went for a run, with her earbuds playing peppy pop music and her mind carefully blank.

Energized by the exercise and the crisp cold weather, she returned home, showered, and ate breakfast. Then she pulled out her violin and spent an hour practicing before she set off for Symphony Hall.

The front lobby of the building was empty and silent, but the administrative area in back was buzzing with activity. It was the day before the first holiday performance of the year, and the New York Symphony's PR machine was revving up.

Kate checked in at Howard's office; he was on a conference call, and Lois had nothing new to report. "But he's going to want to know what you have planned for the soprano solos," Lois said, "so check back again soon, please, Kate."

"I will," Kate promised, although her stomach was still a little queasy at the thought.

Castle appeared at her elbow as she started down the hall toward the library. "Good morning," he said, offering her a coffee cup. She pursed her lips but took it without comment.

"Morning."

"I had some thoughts," he said, holding the library door open for her, and she rolled her eyes.

"Well, there's a surprise."

"Don't be mean," he chided. "Let's look at the diagram, okay?" He took out his notebook, already open to the page where he had sketched out the evidence and suspects in Annabel's murder.

"Down to just one suspect again," Beckett commented, looking at the page as she slid into a chair at the big table.

"Yeah," Castle agreed, sitting down next to her, "but here's the thing: if Sara the soprano isn't our killer, then who was the woman arguing with Annabel in the stairwell?"

"Oh." Kate paused, chewing her lower lip. "You're right, Castle. Something doesn't make sense here. From what Laura said, the argument in the stairwell took place just minutes before Annabel died." She sipped her coffee and thought about it. "So if the woman she was arguing with isn't the killer, then she had to have seen or heard something. But why hasn't she come forward?"

"If we could figure out who she was, we might be able to answer that," Castle said. "Now, mind you, I still haven't fully ruled out Howard. He could be a secret cross-dresser for all we know."

Beckett spluttered, nearly choking on her coffee. "That's your new theory, Castle? Howard in drag? Are you kidding me?"

He ducked his head, grinning sheepishly. "Well, it's a thought. We could also look at Chloe, the alto soloist. Annabel's death created an opportunity for her, after all."

"Yeah, but adding two solos to her _Messiah_ performance isn't exactly a huge career boost. It's not even a lot of extra money." Beckett frowned, considering. "No, I can't really see it," she said after a moment. "But I suppose anything's possible."

"I know, it's a long shot," he conceded. "I just put Chloe over here in the corner with a question mark. Other than that, we're back at square one."

"We need to call Detective Gates," Kate said firmly. "I was thinking about it this morning on the way in. We've had so many people come to us with information, and I told them all to call Gates and tell her what they told us, but we don't know if any of them actually did. So we need to make sure she has all the evidence."

Castle opened his mouth to reply, but just then Beckett's cell phone rang. Raising her eyebrows, she signaled him to wait and pulled out her phone.

"Hello?"

"Ms. Beckett?" said a deep, mellow male voice. "This is Daniel Tate, from the symphony chorus."

"Oh - Daniel," she said, surprised. Beside her, she felt Castle straighten up attentively.

"I wanted to speak with you about Annabel Matthews," the lawyer said. Kate nodded eagerly, even though she knew he couldn't see her.

"Yes, of course. Listen, let me apologize for whatever Maestro Castle might have said to you yesterday," she began, ignoring Castle's affronted glare, but Daniel's soft chuckle cut her off.

"There's no need, Kate. I'll admit I was a bit put off by his approach - he came on a bit strong - but now that I understand you've been collaborating with the police, I can see where he was coming from."

"Collaborating is a little strong," she said cautiously. "We've just been sending some witnesses to Detective Gates, that's all."

Castle leaned closer, trying to get his ear near the phone, and Kate pushed him away, ignoring his scowl.

"Yes, she told me," Daniel said. "And I understand you were the ones who initially found out that Annabel and I had a meeting on Tuesday."

"Right," Kate said, giving in and switching to speakerphone mode so that Castle could hear. "So we were just hoping you could shed some light on why Annabel wanted to change her contract with the symphony. We know that Howard Grainger had been upset about it."

"I don't know anything about that," said Daniel slowly. "What Annabel wanted to talk to me about had nothing to do with her singing contract."

Beckett and Castle looked at each other in surprise. "Really?" Kate managed after a moment. "But…" She trailed off, realizing that they had jumped to a conclusion that had shaped their entire approach.

"Daniel, if you don't mind us asking," Castle cut in, "what _was_ Annabel asking you about, then?"

When the lawyer answered, they both sucked in long breaths of surprise. So many things began to make sense in Kate's mind all of a sudden. Looking down at Castle's diagram, she finally saw where the lines of connection needed to be drawn.

"...And that's all I can tell you according to my confidentiality constraints," Daniel said. "Of course, I've already told the police all of this as well."

"Yes, of course," Kate murmured. "Thanks very much, Daniel."

They hung up, and she and Castle blinked at each other.

"I know who the killer is!" they exclaimed in unison.

They held eye contact for a long, charged moment. A smile began to curve the corners of Kate's mouth.

Quickly she reached into her bag, pulled out Detective Gates's business card, and punched in the numbers.

"Gates," came the voice through the speakerphone.

"Hello, Detective," Kate said. "This is Kate Beckett at the New York Symphony. We have some information for you."


	13. Chapter 13

_And even though it all went wrong_  
_I'll stand before the Lord of Song_  
_With nothing on my tongue but Hallelujah_  
\- Leonard Cohen

"Okay," Beckett said, setting her cell phone down on the table. "Everything's arranged. Now all we can do is wait."

"Detective Gates didn't have to be so rude about us investigating," Castle sulked, slumping in his seat. "I mean, we did solve the case, after all. You'd think she could be a little grateful."

"She was already on the right trail," Beckett pointed out. "She probably would have cracked it eventually. And anyway, she did say 'thank you.'"

"Yeah, but she used a tone. There was a definite tone."

"Get over yourself, Castle. We're probably lucky she didn't rush right over here to arrest us both for obstruction, or interference, or something." Beckett looked at her watch. "Let's just hope we can get all of this wrapped up before the dress rehearsal starts."

"The rehearsal!" He sat up straight again. "That reminds me, Beckett. About the solos." He paused, looking at her hesitantly. He didn't want to push, but ... they were running out of time.

"Yeah..." She looked away. "Let's see how the rehearsal goes, okay?" Biting her lower lip, she turned back and met his gaze. Her eyes seemed to plead with him to understand everything she wasn't saying.

And he thought he did. He hoped so.

"Okay."

Beckett was quiet for a moment and then, unexpectedly, said "Hey, Castle?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you nervous?"

He blinked at the apparent non sequitur as she lifted her eyes to his. The crease in her forehead was adorable, he thought irrelevantly as he tried to decipher her expression.

"No, why should I be?" he asked, and saw her face fall slightly. He added, "We've got the right suspect this time, and everything is going to fall into place."

Beckett's expression cleared. She rolled her eyes and huffed in exasperation. "Not that! I mean about the concerts."

"Oh! That!" He smacked his forehead melodramatically, and was pleased to see that it drew a light laugh from her. "Of course I am."

She tilted her head, considering him. "You were nervous the first couple of rehearsals," she said slowly, "but then it got better. You seemed a lot more confident yesterday."

He stared at her. "You could see that I was nervous?" And here he thought he had done such a good job of hiding it. He was the son of a Tony-award-winning actress, after all.

"Yeah." She was still studying him with that strange expression: a little uncertain, a little something else. "It wasn't obvious, but I just ... had a feeling."

"The first couple of rehearsals were tough, for sure," he admitted. He couldn't remember the last time he had said something so revealing, so personal, to a woman he wasn't related to. "I'm out of my element here, you know."

"I do know," she agreed. "But you settled in."

"I'll still be nervous for the performances, though." He shrugged. "I always am, even when it's my own stuff. Right up until the moment when the stage lights come up and the music starts. Then I'm just ... in it." He looked at her curiously. "Isn't it the same for you?"

"Yeah, it is." She looked down at the table and said carefully, "When I've got my violin."

Oh. Castle was silent, unsure what to say. He knew that any tired platitudes like It's going to be fine or You can do it would be entirely worthless.

"Do you know why I've been so sure that you're the right person for these solos?" he said at last.

She lifted her face to him again, her expression more open now, anticipating. "Why?"

"Because you're tall," he said, and she broke out into a real smile at last.

* * *

Beckett and Castle met Darla Matthews, Annabel's sister, at the front door of Symphony Hall just before noon. "Good morning," Kate said. "Thanks for coming, Darla."

"No, thank you for calling me," the young woman replied, stepping inside with them. "You said on the phone that you found the thing Annabel was trying to give me?"

"That's right," Kate nodded. "We've left it in our administrator's office for safekeeping. If you'll just follow me?"

"Of course," Darla agreed, and fell into step beside Kate, with Castle bringing up the rear.

"You know," Kate said as they walked across the lobby, "the police have been working very hard on trying to figure out who killed Annabel."

"Yes, I'm sure they have," Darla said, looking down at her moving feet and sniffling a little.

"Mr. Castle and I have been gathering some information about it also," Kate went on, opening the door that led to the administrative area, and holding the door open for Darla. The younger woman frowned quizzically as she went through the doorway.

"You have?"

"Yes, not intentionally," Beckett explained, falling into step again, "but since we're basically in charge of the orchestra and chorus, people do tend to come to us with their issues and information."

"You'd be amazed how much people see and hear behind the scenes at a rehearsal," Castle put in mildly from behind them. Darla looked confused.

"I don't understand - why are you telling me this?" They turned a corner and started down another hallway.

"Well, you see," Kate said, taking over again, "since Castle and I aren't experienced investigators, there were a lot of little facts people brought to us that we couldn't make sense of. This item that your sister wanted to give you, for example. Or why Annabel told you that she was here rehearsing on Tuesday, when in fact she wasn't scheduled to rehearse with us until today."

A flicker of something like surprise darkened Darla's eyes briefly, and her tone was more cautious when she said, "Oh, really?"

"Yeah," Castle put in brightly, "we couldn't figure out why she would lie to you about that."

"We also don't have the resources that the police have," Beckett continued, "like the ability to trace phone calls - access autopsy results - look at surveillance video - that kind of thing." Kate opened another door and gestured Darla in. The young woman's eyes darted nervously from Beckett to Castle and back again, but she stepped forward and through the door.

"If we'd had all of that," Castle said, following the women into the outer office of Howard's suite, "we would have figured it out sooner." As Kate went to lean her hip against Lois's desk, Castle closed the outer door and leaned against it, casually blocking off the exit with his body.

"F-figured what out?" Darla asked in a trembling voice. She turned a beseeching look on Kate, her lower lip wobbling. "I don't understand what you're saying."

"That Annabel didn't lie to you about rehearsing that day," Kate said quietly. "It was you who lied. You didn't know that she wasn't on the rehearsal schedule, so you just assumed that's why she was here."

"You lied about her having something to give you, too," Castle said as Darla's hands flew to her mouth, her eyes growing even wider. "You were hoping we would find it and give it to you, because that's why you killed her, to get your hands on it."

"The real reason Annabel was here," Beckett picked up, "was to meet with a lawyer in the chorus and have him look over your mother's revised will. Because your mother had decided to cut you off, and Annabel wanted to be sure that the new will would hold up in probate court."

"It never occurred to us to suspect you," Castle said, "because we aren't cops. Detective Gates had her doubts about you from the beginning, but your alibi seemed air-tight. You were with your mother at the nursing home all afternoon on Tuesday, and the staff confirmed that."

"But after we turned up a witness who saw you arguing with Annabel in the stairway here," Beckett went on, "Detective Gates decided to take another look, and found out that your alibi wasn't as solid as it had seemed."

"No," Darla protested, the first words she had spoken in several minutes. "No, that's crazy. There's some mistake. I was at the nursing home with my mother."

"Yeah, you were," Castle agreed. "Thing is, your mother has been extremely ill and sleeps most of the time, and when she is awake, she's not often lucid. So she isn't in any condition to reliably say whether or when you were there."

Beckett picked up the thread again. "And, she's in a private room, so it would have been pretty easy for you to slip out for a little while and then come back, without anyone noticing."

"Which is exactly what you did," Castle added quietly. "Once we put the idea in Detective Gates's mind, she was able to get hold of the nursing home's surveillance video, and saw you leaving shortly before Annabel died and returning shortly afterward."

"This is crazy," Darla said again, but weakly. "You, you can't prove any of this."

"No, we can't," Beckett agreed with a small smile. "But luckily, that's not our job. It's the police's job. And they're very good at it."

"Although, to be fair, so are we," Castle smirked. Kate rolled her eyes at him.

In a flash, during the split second when both of their eyes were off her, Darla reached into her purse and pulled out a gun.

"Stop it," she sobbed, the muzzle of the gun weaving dizzily through the air as her hand trembled violently. "Both of you just stop it. Leave me alone."

Castle stood paralyzed against the door, his eyes riveted to the gun. He gulped, breathing shallowly.

"I never meant to hurt anyone," Darla cried, her face twisting in anguish. "I just wanted to see. She wouldn't let me see."

Beckett slowly slid off the edge of the desk, holding her hands up in front of her to look as unthreatening as possible. "Calm down, Darla," she said, struggling to keep her voice steady, although her mouth was dry and her heart pounding. "Put the gun down. You don't want to do this."

"Why not? What's the point?" the young woman cried. "What's going to stop me now?"

"I am," said a cool voice from the side. The inner door to Howard's office swung open and Detective Gates stepped out, her gun held firmly in her hand, pointed at Darla, unwavering. Behind her stood Howard, Lois, and Laura the flute player.

"Put the gun down, Darla," Gates said evenly. "It's over."

Kate held her breath, watching Darla's face, not moving a muscle. Castle was as still as a statue against the wall.

Abruptly Darla's gun clattered to the floor and the young woman collapsed onto the nearest chair, sobbing.

Castle slumped against the door, gasping for breath. Beckett sagged down onto the desk again.

* * *

A short while later, as the police led Darla away in handcuffs, Detective Gates came to find Castle and Beckett in the orchestra library, where they were sitting on opposite sides of the table again, not speaking. Their eyes were glazed as they digested the morning's events, but they both snapped to attention and stood up as the cop entered.

"Well, the D.A. thinks that this case looks like a no-brainer," Gates said, "considering all the evidence. We'll need to run ballistics to prove it, but I'm sure the results will show that Darla's gun was the one that shot Annabel. And that, combined with the revisions to their mother's will, ought to be enough right there." She paused, and looked from Beckett to Castle and back again. "We couldn't have done it without you two, though."

"Oh, please, Detective," Kate said weakly, "don't encourage him." Castle huffed, but the cop only cracked the smallest of smiles.

"It's true, though, Ms. Beckett. Much as I hate to admit it - because you two really shouldn't have been poking your noses into this-" and she punctuated this with a hard glare directed mostly at Castle, "-we wouldn't have been able to spot the discrepancy about Annabel supposedly saying that she was rehearsing. And without that, it might not have occurred to us to check their cell phone records and find that it was Darla who called Annabel, rather than the other way around."

"Darla was so anxious to get her hands on the revised will so she could destroy it," Beckett mused. "If she had just let that go, instead of coming here and making up a bunch of lies to get us to look for it, things would have been so different."

"True," Gates nodded. "Annabel had given the will to the lawyer for safekeeping, and he gave it to us, but that by itself wouldn't have been enough to convict her."

"Well, I'm just glad that it's all taken care of," Beckett said with a sigh of relief. "Now we can get back to focusing on our rehearsal this afternoon."

"Yes, and I'll let you get to it," Gates said, holding out her hand to shake. "Ms. Beckett, Mr. Castle, it's been a pleasure. But next time, please, leave the murder investigation to the professionals."

"We will," Castle assured her, and put on an injured expression in response to Beckett's skeptical glare.

"I kind of feel like I owe Howard an apology," he commented after Gates had left. "He was being a hard-ass at first, when Annabel just said that she wanted to change her contract. But he softened right up when she finally told him it was because of her mother's illness."

"Yeah," Kate agreed. "I guess at first she didn't want to play the sympathy card, but when her mother took a turn for the worse, she figured Howard needed to know what was going on." She turned away, growing pensive. "It's kind of ironic, isn't it? Annabel was the daughter who cared more about their mother, which is why she changed her will, but that's also what got Annabel killed. Darla was only at the nursing home that day to make herself look good and give herself an alibi."

"Yeah. It's a sad story," Castle said quietly. Kate turned back to look at him, and found him closer than she had realized. Her breathing sped up slightly as she looked up into his eyes.

"Castle..."

"It was exciting, wasn't it?" he breathed, inching closer. "The way we tag-teamed her. Getting her to give up the goods."

"Getting her to almost kill us too?" Kate countered, but she couldn't muster a lot of bite in her tone, not with the heat of Castle's body lapping at her skin. And anyway, he was right: it had been exciting. The fire of it was still sizzling in her veins.

"Beckett," Castle said softly, taking another half-step toward her. In her heels she was nearly his height; their faces were almost level, less than a foot of charged air between them.

"Oh, there you are, you two!" boomed a voice, and they both jumped, springing apart. Howard Grainger bustled into the room, full of good cheer. "I've been looking for you. It's past time."

"For the rehearsal to start?" Kate gasped, looking at her watch in dismay, but they still had a good ten minutes.

"No, no. For you to tell me your plan," Howard said. He saw them both staring at him in confusion, and cocked his head to the side. "Your plan? For the soprano solos? You said you'd have one."

"Oh my God, yes," Castle exclaimed. "I'm so sorry, Howard, all the excitement-"

"Oh God," Kate echoed, feeling nervousness flood through her again. She was already dizzy and breathless from the electric moment she had just shared with Castle - her face felt hot and flushed - and now the butterflies began to roil through her stomach again.

"Right, right, it was quite a morning," Howard said, nodding. "The police have finally gone, and may I say, we all owe a big debt of gratitude to the two of you for helping out with that awful situation." His public-relations tone was back in place, but when he saw them both nod in acknowledgement, he switched back to businesslike. "So, let's have it. Who's singing the soprano solos?"

Castle drew in a deep breath, and looked over at Kate.

Slowly, she straightened her spine and made eye contact with him, and then with Howard.

"I am."

* * *

The performance stage in Symphony Hall was filling up with instrumentalists and singers, the huge domed ceiling resounding with their voices and music as they prepared for the final rehearsal.

A small crowd gathered around Castle almost immediately, as soon as he came through the stage door; he could see the same thing happening with Beckett as she made her way to the first chair and set down her music score and violin.

"Yes, yes," Castle said indiscriminately to the musicians crowding him, all trying to ask the same questions. "Whatever you've heard is probably true. Annabel's killer is behind bars, so we can all rest easy and focus on the rehearsal, right?" He raised his eyebrows, and everyone took the hint and moved away.

Looking over the heads of the instrumentalists who were already sitting, Castle saw that Beckett wasn't having as easy a time shaking off the questions; her face was beginning to look a bit pinched. Just what they didn't need, he thought, was for busybodies to destroy what small amount of self-confidence Beckett had been working so hard to build up for this rehearsal.

So he intervened, forcing his body language to stay loose and casual as he stepped closer to Beckett as quickly as he could. "Ready to begin, Kate?" he asked lightly, and the hangers-on began to disperse.

The look that Beckett flashed him had a hint of irritation in it as well as relief, but she said only, "Yes, thanks."

He nodded to her and ascended the podium, busying himself with setting out his score and adjusting his music stand while Beckett got the orchestra started tuning up.

Kate took some deep cleansing breaths as the cacophony filling the hall began to coalesce into the soothing ritual of tuning the orchestra. She had felt her shoulders relax when she stepped out onto that stage, into the midst of that group of people: it felt like home. Being bombarded by questions the whole way to her seat had dissipated some of that good feeling, but it quickly came back as she sank into her familiar role at the head of the orchestra.

When the instruments were all tuned, she gave Castle a nod, and he turned to find the three soloists standing at the rear of the stage: Chloe, the alto; Brett, the tenor; and Vincent, the bass. They came forward now to shake Castle's hand, and proceeded to the front of the stage while the orchestra and chorus applauded politely.

Per tradition, four chairs had been arranged at the front of the stage for what should be four soloists; the three took their seats, leaving the remaining seat empty. Looking at it, Kate was briefly struck by a sense of foreboding, as if the bare chair were an omen; but she shook it off, mentally chastising herself for the Castle-like moment of whimsy.

The three soloists were, however, casting curious looks at the empty chair; the chorus and orchestra likewise were looking and nudging each other and whispering questions; Kate knew it was only a matter of time before someone would ask.

"Let's try to run straight through, if we can," Castle announced, pitching his voice to carry over the rows of seated instrumentalists and up to the singers on their tiered risers. "We've done some excellent work this week, so I don't anticipate any problems with our trouble spots, but if we do run into anything, we can come back to it at the end."

During this little speech, Kate had been amusing herself by trying to guess who would be the first to voice what everyone was wondering; she wasn't surprised to see that it was Doris, the soprano in the front row with the short white hair.

"Maestro, what's happening with the soprano solos?" she called, and a susurration went through the group, half curiosity, half relief that someone had finally addressed the elephant in the room.

Castle carefully didn't look at Kate. "We're going to run them when we come to them in order," he said, and quickly, before anyone could ask a follow-up question, he added, "Let's begin with the overture, please."

The hall quieted. The soloists sat comfortably in their seats, scores on their laps. The chorus members stilled, about half of them taking their own seats while the rest chose to remain standing. The orchestra members sat up straighter, lifting their instruments into position.

Castle gestured the tempo, and the music began.


	14. Chapter 14

_Give me to hold all sounds, (I, madly struggling, cry,)_  
_Fill me with all the voices of the universe,_  
_Endow me with their throbbings—Nature's also,_  
_The tempests, waters, winds—operas and chants—marches and dances,_  
_Utter—pour in—for I would take them all._  
-Walt Whitman

For a brief period Kate was able to lose herself in the overture to _Messiah_ , with its slow stately beginning followed by the bright, lilting violin solo. But as the overture died away and Brett Donovan rose from his chair to begin his first solo, nerves began to reassert themselves in Kate's muscles and veins. Her fingers trembled slightly as she moved them into position on her violin strings, her eyes focused on Castle.

He signaled the beat, and the orchestra played the introductory measures, but before Brett could begin to sing, Castle stopped them with a wave of his baton, shaking his head.

"Sorry," he said, "sorry, I think that was too slow." He turned to Brett. "What do you think?"

"It was a little slow," Brett agreed diffidently. Castle nodded.

"Let's try again, everyone." He paused, staring off to the side as he listened for the internal beat, and then lifted his hands again.

This time the tempo was better, and Brett and Castle nodded to each other as the orchestra played. Then Brett turned to face the empty audience chairs, breathing deeply.

" _Comfort ye_ ," he sang, " _comfort ye, comfort ye, my people._ "

To her relief, Kate found that the pause to adjust the tempo had somehow worked to diffuse her tension. She was able to relax into the familiar embrace of the beloved music.

After _Comfort Ye_ , they went right into Brett's second solo, _Ev'ry Valley Shall Be Exalted_. Then Brett took his seat as the chorus rose and held their books at the ready, and they launched immediately into _And The Glory_. Then the chorus members sat down again and Vincent, the bass soloist, rose to sing _Thus Saith The Lord_ , which segued directly into Chloe's solo, _But Who May Abide_.

The chorus rose to their feet again to sing _And He Shall Purify_ , and Kate noticed that Castle chose a slightly faster tempo for this chorus than he had used in the previous rehearsals. She remembered her conversation with him about it, what felt like weeks ago - but was in fact only three days ago, when Annabel was alive and everything was different - and she smiled a little as her bow sailed back and forth across the strings of her violin.

In short order they made their way through two more choruses and three more solos. And then it was time for the _Pifa_ , the short instrumental interlude that marks the midpoint of Part I and is meant to evoke the peaceful pastoral existence of the shepherds of Bethlehem.

The music was quiet and contemplative, and had always put Kate in mind of a quiet country stream flowing gently through fertile meadows. But today it awoke new sensations in her: the chills and queasiness of nervous anticipation.

She stumbled over the Da Capo and winced hard, looking an apology at Castle, but he just gave the tiniest shake of his head and kept his attention focused on conducting. Kate pressed her lips together tightly and forced herself to concentrate.

At last the final notes died away and she let out a breath she hadn't even realized she was holding. She closed her eyes for a long heartbeat, opened them again, and leaned over to her left.

"Yukiko," she whispered to her stand-mate, "I need you to take first seat for these next few."

The other woman stared at her uncomprehendingly. Kate leaned down to place her violin in its case by her feet.

The chorus and orchestra were murmuring, looking at each other and at Castle, wondering what was to come next. It was time for the first soprano solo, but as far as they could tell, there was still no one to sing it.

"Number fourteen, please, everyone," Castle said calmly, and raised his hands in preparation, turning his body slightly toward the cello section. Surprised, the cellists lifted their bows into position.

Kate took a deep, careful breath, and another, and stood up. A rustle of surprise rippled through the chorus. The three soloists twisted around in their seats to see what was going on.

Castle cued the cellists, and they played the opening chord of number 14.

Kate took one more deep breath and set it free.

" _There were shepherds abiding in the field,_ " she sang, " _keeping watch over their flock by night._ "

The clear tones of her voice soared upward to fill the hall, melding with the mellow hum of the cellos. She felt her heart lifting along with it.

Castle ignored the gasps and growing whispers from the chorus, and the stuttering of the string instruments; he signaled to the violin section, and Yukiko startled, quickly sliding over to take Kate's accustomed seat and lead the first violins.

The violins began to play, and Kate sang on.

" _And lo, the angel of the Lord came upon them, and the glory of the Lord shone round about them, and they were sore afraid._ "

The string players played two short chords, looking wide-eyed at Castle, carefully keeping their focus.

Kate felt swept up in the story that they were all weaving together, imagining the amazement of the shepherds, the calm beauty of the angel.

" _And the angel said unto them, 'Fear not, for behold, I bring you good tidings of great joy, which shall be to all people.'_ "

She felt the excitement of the moment beginning to tug the corners of her mouth upward as she sent the music up into the hall.

" _'For unto you is born this day in the city of David a savior, which is Christ the Lord.'_ "

The violins became animated, trilling through a series of quick repeated notes, evoking the dance of joy in the heavens. The chorus rose to their feet, not nearly as smoothly or quietly as usual.

Kate felt her confidence surge with the joyous music. " _And suddenly, there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host,_ " she sang, " _praising God, and saying-_ "

The chorus and trumpets burst in with " _Glory to God, Glory to God in the highest,_ " and Kate felt her smile at last burst free.

She slid into the empty soloist chair as the chorus continued to sing about good will toward men. The other three soloists were staring at her, open-mouthed.

Chloe, who was closest, leaned over and put her hand on Kate's knee. "That was fantastic," she whispered. "Are you okay?"

Kate bit her lip and nodded, not ready to speak.

The chorus finished singing and the violins closed out the movement with an ascending trill, representing the departure of the angel back into the firmament.

As the final echoes died away, the orchestra members seemed to take a collective breath, wondering; but Castle just flipped his page over, cued the chorus to sit, and lifted his arms again, saying calmly, "Number eighteen."

Kate stood up again, closing her eyes through the introductory bars. But she opened them again and felt the smile creeping back across her face as she drew a deep breath.

" _Rejoice, rejoice, rejoice greatly._ "

Her confidence grew as she worked her way through the aria, not missing a note, although she wavered more than she would have liked on some of the highest notes, and her melismas weren't as smooth as they should be. She was dimly aware of Castle and the orchestra supporting her, adjusting to her small rhythmic missteps and changes of tempo, and gratitude surged through her as they all flowed together into the slower middle section.

" _He is the righteous Savior,_ " she sang, " _and he shall speak peace unto the heathen._ "

At the end of the middle section, there was a dramatic adagio moment, in which it was customary for the soloist to provide her own embellishment on the melody while the orchestra followed; but Kate wasn't ready to try anything fancy yet. She turned her head so that she could see Castle from the corner of her eye, and sang " _he shall speak peace unto the heathen_ " strictly as written.

Castle took a dramatic beat, holding his arms entirely still for a single breathless moment - the entire concert hall was completely silent - and then the strings launched back into the opening melody for the second half of the aria.

" _Rejoice,_ " Kate sang again, and did.

* * *

As soon as the final note of _Rejoice Greatly_ died away, Beckett moved back to her customary seat at the head of the violin section. Her seatmate quickly slid over so that Beckett could sit back down.

The orchestra and chorus seemed stunned; it wasn't customary to applaud after each solo, so they didn't, but everyone was sneaking glances at Beckett as she retrieved her violin from its case.

Castle sensed that he needed to keep things moving lest everyone's surprise get the better of them, so he quickly flipped his pages and said, "We're going to skip numbers nineteen and twenty for now, since we did them yesterday. Number twenty-one, please."

The slightly stunned chorus members stood up and opened their books. By the time they were ready, Beckett and her violin were too, and Castle took them directly into _His Yoke Is Easy_ without further ado.

It was the end of Part One of _Messiah_ , so Castle judged it a good time to take a break. "Fifteen minutes, everyone," he said, and as usual the concert hall erupted into the noise of dozens of voices.

Castle turned to Beckett, hoping to see if she was okay before the inevitable crowd of questioners formed; but Brett, the tenor soloist, was faster, getting to her side almost immediately. Beckett greeted Brett calmly, so Castle stayed where he was, just watching.

Castle didn't quite know what he had expected to see on Kate's face - tears, or perhaps a huge smile - but he was surprised to see that she simply looked calm. Peaceful. Confident. It brought a smile to his own lips as he turned to give his attention to the people waiting to speak with him.

* * *

"Kate, wow, you sounded amazing. I didn't know you could sing," Brett said as he came over to her just seconds after Castle called for a break. She nodded acknowledgement, bending to put her violin down.

"Thanks, Brett. You sounded great too."

"Thanks. Listen," the tenor added, lowering his voice, leaning slightly toward her, "about what happened with Annabel, and everything..."

"Right." Kate straightened back up and folded her arms across her chest, studying him. "Brett, what you do in your personal life is none of my business ... but I think you already know that you can't go on keeping this secret. Right?"

He ducked his head and sighed. "I know, I know you're right. I guess I'm just ... nervous."

"Understandable," Kate nodded. "But you know it isn't fair to go on like this. Like I said, it's not my business, so I'm not going to say anything to anyone." She watched him relax slightly at the words. "But don't wait too much longer, okay? Do it for Annabel, if nothing else."

Brett winced, and she knew she had struck home. "Okay. Thanks, Kate."

"No problem." She patted his shoulder and turned to see Lanie at her elbow, with an assortment of chorus and orchestra members hovering nearby. Kate quailed a little at the sight. She definitely wasn't ready to be fawned over by everyone in the room.

"Hey, Lanie."

"Kate." Her friend enveloped her in an unexpected hug. "Girl, you were great. I had no idea - When did this happen? How? I can't even make sentences," she laughed as they pulled apart.

"I know," Kate smiled, looking down at the floor, suddenly shy. "I'll tell you all about it, later, okay?"

"Sure. You better believe you will," Lanie said, regaining her customary snap. But then she laid both of her hands on Kate's upper arms and looked into her eyes, saying, "But you're okay, right? Really?"

"Yeah." Kate met her friend's eyes and let the truth of it come through. "I really am."

"Okay. Good."

Lanie moved away, leaving Kate at the mercy of the petitioners; a couple of them had actual logistical questions, but most seemed to want to gush or dither at her about her singing or about Annabel. She handled as many of them as she could, and then, as her heart rate and breathing increased with anxiety, she had to murmur a hasty "Excuse me" and escape into the hallway behind the stage.

She slipped into a small nook in the hallway, between two decorative pillars, and was not particularly surprised to find Castle just behind her.

* * *

Castle had managed to disentangle himself from his own group of questioners when he saw Kate leaving the stage. He followed, thinking that he could easily make a habit of this - of following her, anywhere and everywhere.

"Are you okay?" he asked, wincing at how trite it sounded, but she nodded, turning to face him.

"Better than okay," she said, and her eyes were shining, but with pleasure, not tears; he was struck again by how calm she looked, and happy. Some hint of pain, some haunted darkness in her eyes that he hadn't even consciously noticed for most of the week was gone.

"Thanks for having my back in there," she said, smiling a small, enigmatic smile. "I think we should run it again, don't you?"

Castle blinked as professionalism reasserted itself. He reminded himself that Kate Beckett was no dainty flower to be protected or coddled. "Yeah," he said, "that would probably be a good idea."

"There were some shaky spots," she acknowledged, but she met his eyes confidently, no trace of embarrassment or dismay over the few mistakes she had made.

"Once more through and it'll be fine," he nodded. _More than fine_ , he thought, _incredible, fantastic_ , but he left it at that.

"Once more unto the breach," she murmured, humor sparkling in her eyes.

_You sounded great_ , he wanted to say, or _You inspire me_ , or _You're extraordinary_ , but he didn't want to freak her out - or, worse, make her laugh at him at the wrong moment. "I hope I didn't push too hard," was what slipped out, and he grimaced, because that wasn't what he wanted to say either.

Beckett studied him, shaking her head slowly. "No," she said, quietly. "You pushed just enough."

"Beckett," he said, even more quietly, taking a small step closer to her, and another. Close enough to touch. Close enough for the heat of their bodies to meet and make his breath stutter in his throat. She swallowed, her eyes tracking his face.

"Yeah?" she answered, low.

"What would happen if I kissed you right now?" Castle asked. His voice came out hoarse, husky with everything he was feeling as he looked at Kate with the sound of her singing still thrumming through his head.

She stared into his eyes, her lips slightly parted. The rhythmic movement of her chest as she breathed in and out was a tantalizing distraction at the periphery of his vision.

"We'd be late getting back to the rehearsal," she answered in a near-whisper.

Castle paused, blinked a few times. Breathed. Took a careful step back.

"Yeah. You're right. You're right."

She moved past him and out of the nook, her shoulder brushing his on the way. "Come on, Castle. Let's go make some music."

He had to close his eyes and take a couple more deep, slow breaths before he could follow.

* * *

Kate slid back into her chair, hoping that her face didn't look too pink in the unforgiving lights of the stage. Her skin still tingled all over from the thrill that had rushed through her when Castle spoke.

To distract herself, and get back into performance mode, she leaned over toward her stand-mate and said, "Is that going to be okay? Just for those three recits and the aria."

"Yes, of course," Yukiko assured her. "No problem at all, Kate. It's going to be awesome."

"Thanks."

Then Castle was back, resuming his spot on the podium and calling, "Let's get back to it, everyone." As the group began to return to their places, he added, "I'd like to run the rest of the program in order, if possible, and then we're going to circle back to a few spots."

So they launched into _Lift Up Your Heads_ , and Kate found her usual confidence returning in spades as she settled back into her accustomed seat and role.

They played and sang through the remainder of the concert program, and when they had finished, Castle turned to the three soloists and shook their hands.

As the soloists departed, he turned to address the chorus and said, "Great work, everyone. You folks are free to go now. We're just going to run through _Rejoice Greatly_ one more time."

The orchestra members shifted and murmured in their chairs. Kate caught Castle's eye and said calmly, "Maestro, you should tell everyone what time you want them here tomorrow."

"Oh, right." He looked a little flummoxed, so she took pity on him.

"An hour before concert time is probably sufficient, unless you want to run anything in full," she prompted.

Castle nodded quickly. "Okay, so be here at noon, then, everyone. Good?"

There were nods from all the assembled musicians, but few of the chorus members moved to leave their seats. Kate felt her face heat up anew as she realized that they were waiting to hear her sing again.

"Ready?" Castle asked her, and she nodded, slowly rising. Yukiko slid over into the first chair as Kate made her way again to the soloist's place at the front of the stage.

Her second time singing through _Rejoice Greatly_ went even better than the first time. Recovered from their surprise, the orchestra played perfectly, and Kate's confidence was high. She sailed easily through the spots that had tripped her up the first time, and even essayed a small amount of embellishment on the cadences. At the end, she was smiling, and so was Castle, and much of the orchestra. And, unexpectedly, the remaining chorus members who hadn't left yet burst into applause.

Kate blushed and smiled, mouthing 'Thank you' to the assembled group.

"Thank you, everyone," Castle said. "Get a good night's sleep, okay?"

* * *

As the musicians began to pack up and leave, Castle stepped down from the podium, thinking about how to approach Beckett. He was itching to talk to her about everything that had happened today - he was itching, in fact, to ask her to dinner; but an unaccustomed hesitation took him over. Normally, Rick Castle wasn't the kind of guy who allowed fear of rejection to stop him from approaching a woman. But Kate Beckett was not just any woman.

He was still hesitating over this when he saw Kate turn her head to track the movement of someone on the audience floor. Looking, Castle saw that it was Howard Grainger, walking down the center aisle, calling Kate's name.

As Howard puffed his way up the stairs onto the stage, Castle moved over behind Beckett to blatantly eavesdrop.

"Kate, you sounded marvelous. Truly beautiful," Howard began as he approached.

"Thank you," she replied coolly. "I didn't realize you were listening."

"Oh yes. I was at the back," he said, gesturing negligently. "Anyway, I just wanted to let you know that although it's fairly last-minute, we've put together an insert for the program, to highlight your role as soprano soloist."

"Oh." Beckett looked surprised. "You didn't have to do that, Howard."

"I know, I know, you're not in it for the fame and fortune," her boss nodded, "but still, it would look odd to have nothing in the program, and since it was too late to have them all reprinted, that was the way we decided to go." He paused, and went on, "We've also issued a press release."

"Oh," she said again, faintly, and although Castle could only see her profile, it seemed to him that she had paled at the thought.

"Was that really necessary?" he asked Howard, not even caring that he was butting in.

"Well, from the publicity standpoint, yes," Howard replied unrepentantly. "With all due respect, Maestro, some folks are already planning to come to the concerts just to see you, but the addition of Kate to the program - given her history, her family background, you know - will definitely put more butts in the seats."

"And that's what it's all about," Beckett murmured, turning her face away. Castle looked at her in some concern.

"Howard," he began, a little angrily, but she turned back and forestalled him with a raised hand.

"No. It's fine," she said firmly. "Thanks for the warning, Howard." She pulled her lower lip between her teeth and turned away again, folding her arms defensively across her stomach.

"Well, see you tomorrow," Howard said to Castle, awkwardly, holding out his hand. Castle shook it, sighing and nodding.

"Yes, see you tomorrow."

After Howard left, Castle turned back to Beckett, who seemed to be lost in thought. He wasn't even sure she knew he was there; but then Lanie approached, followed by several other singers and players, saying to Kate "Ready?" and to Castle "Are you joining us, Maestro?"

"Joining you for what?" he asked, and Kate looked over at him, her eyes widening.

"Oh, Castle, I forgot to mention," she said. "We usually go out to dinner after the dress rehearsal. It's kind of a tradition."

"What, the whole orchestra?" he exclaimed in some surprise.

"Not hardly," Lanie laughed, "though everyone's welcome, but there are just about a dozen of us regulars."

"We always go to Remy's," one of the clarinetists told him. "It's a burger joint a few blocks away. They have the most amazing french fries and milkshakes."

"Sounds great," Castle said. "I'd love to join you."


	15. Chapter 15

_Are we not formed, as notes of music are,_  
_For one another, though dissimilar?_  
-Percy Bysshe Shelley 

And so, after everyone had gathered up their things, Castle found himself walking along the sidewalk in the company of more than a dozen other performers, all chattering away. Castle tried to weave his way to Beckett's side, but the crowd and the conversation defeated him.

At the restaurant, where a large table had been reserved for them, he tried again to maneuver himself next to Beckett, but instead found himself wedged into a corner of the table between two chorus basses. Although their conversation was entertaining, he couldn't stop glancing over at Beckett, half the table away, engaged in her own conversation with some other orchestra members.

She still seemed calm, but more subdued than previously, and he wondered whether Howard's efforts to capitalize on her for publicity had rattled her more than she let on. Guilt sliced through him again, his brow furrowing with the worry that he had forced her into something she wasn't ready for ... but he remembered her saying _You pushed just enough,_ and he reminded himself that she was an adult who could and did make her own decisions; so he told himself to let it go.

When the meal was over and everyone was milling around on the sidewalk outside, Castle managed to dodge through the crowd and get to Beckett at last. "Can I give you a ride home?" he asked quietly in her ear, and she startled slightly, looking up at him.

"Okay," she said, only a little hesitantly. So he just nodded and turned his attention to saying goodnight to the assembled musicians.

"Get some sleep, everyone," he advised cheerfully as he stepped over to the town car that was just pulling up to the curb. Beckett stood off to the side of the rapidly shrinking group, her arms folded, her lips pursed, shaking her head at him. But he detected a twinkle in her eye, so he opened the car door and leaned inside briefly to ask the driver to wait a moment.

When he straightened up again, Lanie was at Beckett's side, the two of them talking in low voices. Kate's head was bent down toward her shorter friend, her forehead creased, but one side of her mouth was curled upward in a half-smile. The others had all dispersed.

"Anything you'd like to share with the class, ladies?" he asked jovially, moving back across the sidewalk toward them. Lanie narrowed her eyes at him.

"Are you the teacher, or the class clown?" she asked, putting a hand on her hip.

"Ouch." Castle widened his eyes deliberately. "I'm sure I don't know what you mean."

"Uh-huh." Lanie turned back to Beckett. "Girl, we're gonna talk again, right?"

"Of course." Beckett exchanged air-kisses with her friend, and then Lanie sauntered off, throwing Castle a knowing smirk on her way by.

"Why do I get the feeling she knows something I don't?" he asked, holding the car door for Beckett.

"I don't think you really want me to answer that," she replied with a grin, pushing her violin case into the car and then sliding in after it.

* * *

Kate felt nervousness fluttering in her stomach again as she settled into the car and watched Castle climb in after her. This time, of course, it had nothing to do with singing or performing, and everything to do with the man sitting a couple of feet away, looking at her like ... well, she didn't even know what to compare it to, but the way he looked at her made her whole body flush hot and then cold, then hot again, and she felt very uncharacteristically tongue-tied. _Like he's Frederic and you're Mabel,_ she remembered Lanie saying, and she remembered how she had scoffed, but now….

"That might have been the best cheeseburger I've ever had," Castle commented as the car pulled out into traffic. "I can't believe I never knew Remy's existed. You guys go there a lot?"

"Usually at least once or twice each concert week," she nodded, grateful for a neutral topic of conversation, "and like I said, we always go after the dress rehearsal. Just sort of a fun tradition."

"It was fun," he agreed, nodding. "Does Perlmutter ever join you? Or Howard?"

"No, never," she laughed. "They aren't really the types to socialize with the likes of us."

Castle was looking at her, assessing. "Howard seems remarkably lacking in tact for someone whose job is mostly PR," he commented slowly, his brows drawing downward.

Kate hesitated, knowing exactly what he meant. "Castle, don't worry about it," she said at last. "It's not a big deal."

His face cleared somewhat. "Well, as long as you're sure."

"I am," she nodded. It was true that Howard's efforts to publicize her role in the concert had taken her aback, but as she thought about it, she realized that she should have seen it coming. And there could be no way to avoid it; Johanna Beckett's daughter singing onstage was bound to be big news; she was making a spectacle of herself whether she intended it or not. She would just have to be okay with it.

"Okay," said Castle, unknowingly echoing her thoughts. He was quiet for a moment, and then commented, "I wrote a song about cheeseburgers once."

"Really?" she laughed. "I don't think I've heard that one."

"No, no, it never went anywhere - it's just gathering dust in some old notebook." He paused, looking thoughtful. "Maybe I'll find a way to work it into the new opera."

Kate's eyebrows went up as she remembered what Alexis had said last night about Castle's new opera. "Oh, the one you've been working on till all hours of the night? So," she said teasingly, "are you ever going to tell us what it's about?"

Castle's eyes focused abruptly, and a strange expression crept across his face. He looked embarrassed, and maybe a bit guilty. "Um," he said. He shifted in his seat and averted his eyes, and suspicion began to prickle at the back of Kate's neck.

"Castle," she said warningly.

He took a deep breath and looked back over at her. "Beckett ... the thing is..."

"Just tell me," she snapped, and once again he seemed powerless against the bite of her commanding tone.

"Okay," he sighed, "well, it's about this woman who is training to be a professional singer, but then her mother is murdered, so she becomes a cop instead. A homicide detective."

Kate felt her whole body go still, her jaw dropping open. A chill trickled down her spine.

"You're writing an opera about me?" she whispered unsteadily.

"Based on you," he corrected hesitantly. "I mean, none of the details are - I would never - it's just loosely based. But it's, you..." He stopped himself, took another careful breath, and said quietly, "You inspired me."

"Castle," she breathed, her heart pounding. She didn't know what to make of this at all. A whole opera based on her? What did he mean by _you inspired me_?

"Beckett," he said, sliding a little closer to her on the seat. He reached out as if to take her hand, but she pulled it away, staring at him, speechless. "Kate. Listen, until I met you, I hadn't composed anything for ages. Since the last Storm opera went into production."

"But that was more than a year ago," she said, blinking, trying to comprehend what he was saying.

"Yeah. And I had to force myself to finish it," he admitted. "I just ... lost my motivation, my inspiration. Nothing was flowing. I barely even touched the piano for months."

"What are you trying to say?" she demanded, feeling herself shrink back against the car's leather seat, trembling.

"The Storm series is done," he said in reply, meeting her eyes. "I'm done with it. It's gotten boring for me: the formulaic plot structures, the same musical motifs, the same characters. But then I met you, and suddenly I'm hearing all new music in my head." He winced and scrunched up his face in distaste. "Oh God, that sounds so trite and stupid, but it's true."

"Castle," she groaned, hoping like hell that he wasn't about to burst out with some ridiculous proclamation of undying love or something. But he shook his head firmly and leaned toward her to make eye contact again.

"No, Beckett, listen. You're ... extraordinary. You've had such pain in your life, but you work through it, and you're so good at what you do. And you don't take crap from anyone. I just - I just really admire that. And somehow, being around you has gotten me composing again. This new opera is going to be great, I can feel it."

"And it's based on me," she repeated, faintly. Kate was used to hearing histrionics - working with musicians and occasionally actors, one tended to encounter a lot of melodramatic personalities - but Castle's sincerity, his fervor, was captivating. Once again she found herself drawn in by him, all against her will.

"Well, it's a version of your story," he said carefully, "and like I said, all the details will be different. But you're the inspiration behind it, yeah." He tried a little smile and offered, "Every artist needs a muse, right?"

Kate sat up straighter at that. "Call me a muse again and I will break both your legs."

He grinned a little. "Okay."

She stared at him, her thoughts whirling.

"Your house, miss," the driver said, and Kate realized with surprise that the car was parked next to her building.

"Oh ... thank you."

"I'll walk you to the door," Castle said quickly, as she pulled her purse strap over her shoulder and picked up her violin.

"You don't have to do that, Castle."

"Oh, yes I do," he asserted firmly. "If my daughter finds out I didn't mind my manners, there'll be hell to pay."

"Well, we can't have you getting in trouble with your daughter," she murmured, unable to hold back a grin. She stepped out onto the sidewalk and Castle was at her side in a moment, the car idling at the curb.

"Are you mad?" he asked tentatively as they walked up the steps to her front door. She sighed, biting her lip.

"I don't know," she said honestly. She put her violin case down so she could dig into her purse for her keys. "I'm ... surprised. And I, it was a long day."

"That's for sure!" he agreed, his eyes widening. "We solved a murder today and everything. That was so cool."

"Oh, it was 'cool,'" she echoed, rolling her eyes, but she was grinning again, and Castle grinned back.

"Come on, it was."

"Okay," she conceded, huffing a little just for show, "maybe a little bit."

"Beckett," Castle said, and his voice was low again, and he was close to her again, the broad wall of his chest looming in her vision until she dragged her gaze up to meet his. She gasped and shivered a little at the heat in his eyes.

"What?" she whispered, her heartbeat pounding in her ears.

"What would happen if I kissed you right now?" he asked, so softly, and she smiled the tiniest bit at the words, remembering him saying the same thing a few hours ago.

Her knees felt weak, and she knew that she could step back - maybe she should - but her eyes were fixated on Castle's lips and she found herself murmuring, "There's one way to find out."

Castle leaned down slowly, his hand cupping her elbow, and she tilted her face up toward him, and his mouth met hers.

Heat flooded through her at the contact, and before she knew it her arms were coming up around his neck, the soft warm touch of his lips making her dizzy. She felt his hands sliding across her back to hold her closer, his tongue slipping out to tease at her lips. She moaned softly and opened for him, letting his tongue slide in and meet hers.

He pressed her back against the cold stone of the door frame, and she shivered a little more, tugging him closer. The hot weight of his body against hers was delicious. He kissed her as if he could learn her from the inside out, and she thought briefly that she might even let him.

But eventually he stopped, sighing, touching his lips to hers one last gentle time before pulling back. "I should..." he said hoarsely, and paused to clear his throat, "I should get home."

"Yeah," she agreed reluctantly, sifting her fingers through the soft hairs at the back of his neck one more time before pulling her arms back, though she left her hands resting on his chest.

"Kate..." he began, and trailed off, looking a bit lost.

"Don't stay up all night composing," she said with a little smirk. "Two concerts tomorrow."

"Right," he nodded. "I won't. And you should get your sleep too."

"Right." But she lifted up on her toes to kiss him again, her fingers curling around the lapels of his coat, and he sank into the kiss, his mouth moving sweetly over hers, lingering until they both had to stop for breath.

"Sweet dreams, Beckett," he murmured against her lips, and she smiled, reluctantly unclenching her fingers and pulling back.

"Goodnight, Castle."

He put his hands in his coat pockets and went down the stairs, and she picked up her violin and went inside.

* * *

Castle let himself into his loft in a daze, his brain buzzing.

He had sat almost completely still in the car, just soaking in the memory of Beckett's mouth, the long curves of her body pressed against him, and the many different timbres of her voice - the clear high soprano when she sang; the low sexy rasp just after he kissed her; and of course the many different tones and qualities of her speaking voice. He wondered if he would ever be able to capture all the voices of Beckett in his music, with only one lifetime allotted.

Moving on autopilot, he hung his coat in the closet, and then turned to find his daughter a few feet away, looking at him in some amusement.

"Earth to Dad?"

"Oh, hi, pumpkin," he said, trying to snap out of it. "How was your day?"

"Fine," she replied, coming over for a hug. "What about you? Did you catch a murderer and have a good rehearsal?"

"Yep, that sums it up," he agreed, moving toward the couch. "Gram's show is on, isn't it?" he added, looking at his watch. "You didn't want to go see it tonight?"

"I thought I'd see her tomorrow night, after your matinee," Alexis said, sitting down next to him. "Make a day of it. Maybe we can all have dinner in between, or coffee or something. Tea," she amended, because Martha Rodgers didn't believe in drinking coffee just before a performance.

"That sounds nice," Castle said, distracted again, this time by wondering what Beckett would be doing in between their two performances tomorrow.

"Dad? You're off in space somewhere," Alexis observed, looking at him curiously. "Do you need to go compose?"

"No, no. Can't get sucked into it tonight," he murmured. "Promised her I wouldn't stay up too late."

Alexis prudently didn't ask whom he meant by her; it was probably obvious, he realized. "I could come and shake you out of it, if you want," she offered. "It's not that late yet. You can compose for an hour or two."

"Maybe that would be a good idea," he conceded, and allowed his daughter to pull him to his feet.

But before he went to the piano, he took a detour into his study to look through his old notebooks full of half-formed and half-finished song ideas. After about ten minutes of digging, he managed to locate the one containing his cheeseburger song. He leaned against his desk, scanning the verses, softly humming the melody to himself. Alexis came in after a few minutes and steered him to the piano.

* * *

On Saturday morning, Kate slept late; she didn't get up until nearly 8:00. Instead of going for a run, she opted for some yoga in her living room, then showered and settled down with the morning newspaper.

Normally, it was her habit on concert mornings to eat a large, carb-heavy breakfast, to give herself energy and stamina for the long haul. But this morning she felt a little queasy at the thought, and she wanted to pamper her vocal cords, so she just ate a hard-boiled egg and a banana, and drank green tea with honey instead of coffee.

Just as she was finishing her food and the first section of the newspaper, her phone rang. She saw Lanie's name on the caller ID and picked it up.

"Morning, Lanie."

"Morning, Kate. Have you gone online yet?"

"Hmm? No," she said, wondering what her friend was getting at. "I'm just having breakfast. What's going on?"

"Well, just a heads-up, girl, the news about your singing this weekend is _everywhere_ ," Lanie said. "Howard's press release got picked up by the wires, and all the music blogs are exploding with it."

"Really?" Kate said a little faintly, her chest tightening with anxiety at the thought. Maybe she wasn't as ready to be thrust into the spotlight as she had thought.

"Haven't you seen the paper?" Lanie asked.

"I'm looking at it now. Why?" Kate said, flipping to the arts section as she spoke. "Oh."

Somehow Howard had managed to get the announcement onto the front page of the arts section - above the fold, no less, albeit in a narrow column on the edge of the page. _CASTLE TO CONDUCT, BECKETT TO SING_ , read the headline, and the article quoted Howard's press release while adding its own breathless take on the news.

"Oh God," Kate muttered, flipping the paper over again so she didn't have to see it.

"Are you okay, honey?" Lanie asked. "I thought you should know."

"No, yeah, thanks for the warning," she sighed. "Yeah, I'm okay. I should have known this would happen."

"You could still back out?" Lanie offered, but Kate sucked in a sharp breath and shook her head firmly.

"No. No, that's not an option any more, Lanie." She paused, briefly biting her lip. "Not when I've worked so hard to get here."

"I hear ya." She could hear the smile in her friend's voice, the approval. It warmed her unexpectedly. "That man's really done a number on you, huh?" Lanie added, teasing. Kate felt one side of her mouth tugging upward against her will.

"I don't know what you mean," she teased back.

"Liar," her friend laughed. "So, you kiss him yet?"

Kate's cheeks heated up. "Maybe."

"That's my girl!" Then Lanie turned serious again. "He's good for you, Kate. Try not to fuck it up."

"Oh, gee, thanks for the vote of confidence." But she was smiling.

"See you in a few hours."

"Bye."

The phone continued to ring all morning, and Kate was grateful for Lanie's warning. She didn't answer it: not when it was old classmates or teachers from school, or former colleagues; not when it was reporters and editors, print and online and TV; not even when it was friends from the orchestra who happened to be sitting out this concert cycle. She let them all go to voicemail while she tried to focus on her pre-concert prep.

She spent some time practicing her violin, and some time doing breathing exercises. She did some vocalizations as warm-ups and sang some scales and arpeggios. She even tried to practice _Rejoice Greatly_ a little bit, but felt too self-conscious and unfocused with the constant ring of the phone distracting her.

She was on the verge of deciding to unplug the damn thing when it rang again and she saw her father's name on the caller ID. For the first time since talking to Lanie, she answered it.

"Hi, Dad."

"Morning, Katie. You've been making quite a splash, haven't you?"

"Oh God. What have you heard?"

"Oh, nothing much," he chuckled, and she was relieved to hear the amusement in his voice. "Just a half-dozen calls already this morning, wondering if I knew what they've been saying about my daughter in the papers, the blogs, the discussion lists."

"I'm sorry, Dad," she sighed. "I probably should have warned you they were doing a press release."

"No, no, it's fine, baby," he assured her. "I can take it. I was used to this kind of thing, you know, back in the day."

Kate breathed, and breathed again. Together they took a moment to silently feel their shared grief.

"Not having second thoughts, are you, Katie?" Jim asked gently.

"No," she said definitively; but then, more cautiously, "Are you? About ... about coming to the concert?"

"No, God no, honey," he said immediately. "I said you should do it, and I meant it. I can't wait to hear you." He sighed slowly. "Katie, you were so bound and determined to blame yourself for ... what your mom did. So damn sure that it was all your fault. You gave up singing as a kind of self-imposed penance, and it didn't make you happy. It never has."

"Dad," she choked out, her eyes brimming.

"She wouldn't have wanted that," he went on softly. "Singing is a part of you, Katie, just like it was part of her. You need it."

"I needed her," Kate whispered, but she was thinking about Castle, and how he had said the same things. _Singing is part of you. It's in your veins._

"Oh, baby." Jim sighed again. "I'll be there today, and I'll be proud of you. You're going to be great. I just know it." His tone lightened. "Now stop crying and blow your nose. You can't sing if you're all stuffed up and sniffling."

Kate smiled through the tears. "Okay. Thanks, Dad. I love you."

"Love you too, Katie."


	16. Chapter 16

_You could write a song about some kind of emotional problem you are having, but it would not be a good song, in my eyes, until it went through a period of sensitivity to a moment of clarity. Without that moment of clarity to contribute to the song, it's just complaining._  
-Joni Mitchell 

Across town from Beckett, Castle was also receiving a sudden influx of phone calls. In his case they were mostly sycophants angling for last-minute free tickets, or his friends from the rock music world calling to give him crap for getting involved in classical music. He was happy to chat with them for most of the morning, until his throat began to feel dry and tired; then he started letting the calls go to voicemail. He settled down at the kitchen island with a cup of coffee, a large slice of cheesecake, and his _Messiah_ score for some final studying.

By 11:00, neither his mother nor his daughter had appeared from upstairs. Their keys were on the little table by the front door, so he knew they were home, although he had no idea how late Martha might have gotten in. He himself had gone to bed at a reasonable hour for once, thanks to Alexis's intervention.

He took his tuxedo out of the closet and carefully loaded it into a garment bag. He packed his Messiah score and other assorted papers into his briefcase. Then, belatedly reconsidering the wisdom of conducting an entire concert on just one slice of cheesecake, he threw together a quick sandwich and ate it, along with an apple, feeling very virtuous.

He was just starting to write a note to his women when Alexis appeared at the top of the stairs, still rubbing sleep from her eyes.

"Morning, pumpkin!" he trilled, and the teenager winced.

"It's way too early for you to be that cheerful, Dad," she complained, coming down the stairs. He moved quickly to pour her a cup of coffee.

"It's after eleven," he pointed out with a grin, watching Alexis load up her cup with cream and sugar. She gave him a glare, which he accepted with equanimity. To be fair, on a normal Saturday he would be the one stumbling groggily out of bed at this hour. But this wasn't a normal Saturday.

"Don't forget the concert starts at one," he said, earning himself another glare. "You're in charge of getting Gram up and presentable, and getting her there on time."

"She's already in the shower," Alexis reported, which was a relief.

He cut a smaller slice of cheesecake, put it on a plate with some fruit, set the plate in front of his half-awake daughter, and departed.

* * *

Kate got to Symphony Hall at 11:30 with her violin, purse, and her concert clothing. Instead of the usual plain black trousers and black blouse that she wore for most orchestra performances, she had brought a black dress - the one she usually saved for particularly significant concerts, such as when there were visiting dignitaries in attendance, or when the orchestra traveled to prestigious locations.

The dress was velvet, with a dramatically low cowl neck and a full ankle-length skirt. It was nowhere near as flashy as the gowns usually worn by vocal soloists, but it would work nicely for her dual role as first violinist and soprano.

She made her way to the dressing rooms in the basement and stowed her belongings in a locker. It was early yet; only a few other musicians were here, and the halls were mostly quiet, though several of the soundproofed practice-room doors were closed.

Normally, at this point on concert day, Perlmutter would be rampaging around like a grouchy goblin, coming up with half a dozen suddenly urgent matters that he needed Kate to personally take care of before the concert could begin. It was positively restful without him around. She smiled to herself at the thought as she went back up the stairs to the administrative area.

"What's so funny?" asked Castle, entering the hallway from the front. She startled, but turned her smile to him, a little bashful now.

"Oh, nothing. I was just remembering how crazed Perlmutter always gets just before a concert." She studied Castle carefully. "Nervous?"

"Just a little," he shrugged. "You?"

"Just a little," she echoed, ducking her head in embarrassment, because it wasn't really accurate. But she was going to be fine.

"I had a thought about something Detective Gates said," Castle burbled cheerfully, and she groaned, but he blithely ignored it and went on. "She said, 'next time leave the murder investigation to the professionals.'"

"Yeah?" Kate replied, wondering where he was going with this. "So?"

"So ... first of all, 'next time'? That's either very optimistic or very pessimistic of her," he grinned.

Kate huffed and rolled her eyes. "It's just a figure of speech-"

"I know, I know," he cut in. "But more importantly, what if we _were_ the professionals?"

She stared at him, completely bemused. "What on earth are you talking about?"

"I looked up how to get a private investigator's license in New York State," he told her excitedly. "It's really not that complicated at all. You and I could totally do it, and then we could be PIs together on the side. Like Hart To Hart. Starsky and Hutch. Turner and Hooch."

Kate felt her jaw drop and knew it probably looked ridiculous, but she honestly couldn't decide whether he was serious or not.

"You do remind me a little of Hooch," she managed after a moment, and he snickered appreciatively.

"See? We make a great team. I'm telling you, Beckett." He grinned, and she shook her head, closing her eyes briefly at the ridiculousness of him.

"Castle ... are you forgetting that Starsky and Hutch were actual police officers? For that matter, so were Turner and Hooch. And as for the Harts, they weren't even licensed PIs. They were just rich socialites who happened to run into murders everywhere they went."

Now it was Castle's turn to stare. "Do you have any idea how much it excites me that you know all of that?" he exclaimed, awestruck. Kate groaned and rolled her eyes.

" _Castle!_ "

"Kate," he said, stepping a little closer to her and lowering his voice. Her breathing quickened as she looked at him, wondering if he was going to try to kiss her again. Oh, she wanted him to, so very much - but not here, not now.

But he just held her eyes and asked, "What do you do between concerts?"

She blinked at the sudden change of topic. "What?"

"Between the two concerts today. We'll have a couple of hours' downtime, right? What do you usually do?"

"Oh." She cleared her throat, trying to clear her head as well. "Um, some people just hang out here; some go out for a bite to eat. My dad's coming today, so I thought I'd see if he wants to go get something after the first concert."

"Gotcha." Castle nodded, bouncing slightly on his toes. "Well, uh, if you want, you and your dad could come with me and Mother and Alexis. We're going to get tea and snacks before Mother has to run off for her evening performance." He paused then, and added uncertainly, "I mean, if you think you'd want to. To join us. I mean..."

"I'll ask him," she offered, timidly, and her chest tightened when she saw Castle's face light up. What on earth was going on? she wondered. Castle had been flirting with her all week, and she couldn't deny that there had been sparks, but she'd assumed it was just the way he was with every woman. But now he seemed to be actually showing an interest in her, and it seemed so far-fetched. He could have any woman he wanted.

These thoughts had swirled through her mind last night, while she was getting ready for bed; but she'd been too worn out from the long day - not to mention flushed and flustered from Castle's kisses - to really focus on them. Now, in the light of day, confronted with the man himself and his obvious pleasure at the thought that she might go out for tea and snacks with him, she found herself wondering all over again. What could Castle possibly see in her?

 _You inspired me,_ he had said. Could that be all it was? That he wanted to spend time with her just to wring out every last bit of inspiration for his opera? But he hadn't kissed her like a man who was just looking for story ideas. She shivered a little at the memory.

Castle noticed, and tilted his head curiously at her. He looked about to say something, but now the hall was rapidly filling up, and there was only time for a final exchange of glances before they both moved off in different directions.

* * *

Castle felt giddy as he wandered off down the hall, shaking his head at how incoherent he had become with Beckett. The simple act of inviting her out for tea between performances had nearly reduced him to babbling. What had happened to his composure, his legendary suavity?

And what was he thinking, suggesting that she bring her dad along? True, Beckett had already met his mother and daughter, but was he ready to meet her father? Surely they weren't yet at that point in their ... He stopped short. Their what? Relationship? It was far too soon to be using that word, he told himself. Hell, they hadn't even been on anything that really qualified as a date. One kiss - okay, several kisses - and one murder mystery and a week's worth of rehearsals - and one partially-written opera - these things did not add up to a relationship.

But he wanted them to. He closed his eyes briefly and admitted it to himself. They had two concerts to perform today, and one more tomorrow, and then that would be the end of their working partnership, and the very thought caused his guts to twist and the corners of his mouth to pull down. He couldn't bear the idea of not seeing Beckett any more after this weekend. Something would have to happen.

He wanted it all with her: he wanted to kiss her again; he wanted to know what her favorite movies and foods and books were; he wanted to make love to her and lie in bed with her all day; he wanted to write songs and hear her sing them.

Oh God. He was in love with her. He was completely hopeless.

Dazed, he hardly noticed where he was going as he stumbled down the hall to the stairs, and down the stairs, and somehow found his way to the dressing room reserved for the conductor. His briefcase and tuxedo were already there, having been whisked off as soon as he arrived by an efficient symphony assistant. He closed the door and began to change his clothes.

* * *

Kate went out onto the stage, where several instrumentalists were already gathered, finding their seats and getting themselves organized. She put her music onto her stand and spent a few minutes checking the chairs, music stands, and chorus risers to make sure everything was properly placed and in order. She conferred with the stage manager about lighting, cameras, and microphone placement, and ensured that there was a clear path for the soloists to get from backstage to their spots at the front. Along the way, she also dealt with several orchestra members who had various questions or problems of their own.

All of this worked like a charm to keep her mind occupied, prevent her from dwelling on the thought of Castle, and keep nerves at bay; but when everything was in order, and showtime was almost upon them, she found herself getting jittery again. She took a few slow, shaky breaths and headed back downstairs.

The chorus members had gathered in two large rooms, and were warming up in clumps and clusters. Most of the orchestra members were on stage by now, or in the locker rooms doing their final prep.

Kate found her locker and changed into her dress and the medium-low heels that she had brought along to go with it. She ate a protein bar that she had brought along, and then stood in front of a mirror for a while, touching up her makeup, distracting herself anew by wondering what to do with her hair. She had put it up into a neat bun, which, along with the low neckline of the dress, emphasized her collarbones and neck. She fussed at it for a few minutes, and finally decided to leave it. It would be fine.

She stowed her cosmetics case back in the locker, took out her violin, and went to close herself into a practice room so she could warm up her voice in private. As sure as she was about her decision, she wasn't yet ready for the comfortable camaraderie of the chorus - even just for warm-ups - nor, especially, for anyone to hear how her voice might waver and tremble in the beginning.

* * *

At 12:45, fifteen minutes before concert time, the performance hall was buzzing with voices as the audience took their seats, chattering away. Castle stood by the stage door, peeking out at the crowd while the orchestra members settled themselves and the chorus began to file onstage.

"Good house?" said Beckett's voice from behind him, and he turned with an enthusiastic "Yeah" that died on his lips when he saw her.

Oh God, she had changed her clothes; she was wearing a dress, and it was...

Her eyes twinkled with amusement as she reached up with one finger and pressed it to his chin, closing his mouth.

"Breathe," she advised, smirking, and he couldn't even bring himself to care that she was laughing at him.

"You look incredible," he managed to get out, and she smiled, looking away, her cheeks turning a little pink.

"Thanks. Not so bad yourself," she murmured, and moved away.

He turned to rest his forehead against the cool wall beside the stage door. God, he was a mess around this woman.

* * *

While Kate was waiting for the chorus to get themselves settled on the stage, she snagged a copy of the concert program book that someone had left lying around backstage. Curious, she found the insert that had been added at the last minute.

She had to admit that Howard and his team had done a nice job with it. On one side, the page showed a large head-shot of Annabel, along with her dates of birth and death, a short paragraph summarizing her life and career, and a statement of mourning and sympathy from the orchestra administration. The other side bore a smaller picture of Kate, along with her bio - the same one given in the full program booklet, but embellished with a sentence about her brief time in the Juilliard vocal performance program. The paper also listed the solo parts that Kate would sing, and the two that Chloe would sing in their modified versions.

Replacing the insert and putting the program booklet down, she peeked out at the stage and saw that the chorus was assembled, all seated, and the orchestra looked ready also. It was five minutes to showtime. She glanced at the stage manager, who gave her a nod.

Kate took her violin and bow from their case, tucked the violin under her arm, and went out onto the stage.

The audience was still making plenty of noise - several thousand people who thought they were speaking quietly added up to a lot of voices - but a hush, and then a rising murmur, ran through the crowd as Kate appeared. Steeling herself, she ignored it and made her way to her seat at the front.

"All set?" she asked Yukiko, who nodded, wide-eyed. Kate sat down and took a moment to page through her score, making sure that everything was ready. The feeling that all eyes in the room were on her was unsettling, but she reminded herself that she always felt that way when she came onstage - especially for the first concert in a set - and that it was a function, at least in part, of her concertmaster role at the front of the stage. Until the conductor came onstage, she was in charge.

Sneaking a glance out at the room, she couldn't help noticing that it was a bigger audience than usual. _Messiah_ was popular, but there were numerous musical groups in New York that performed it every year, and it tended not to draw the biggest crowds here. Yet, today, it appeared that there were almost no empty seats at all. Kate's stomach churned at the thought that this might be because of her - her and Castle. She felt a sudden surge of nausea, which she firmly swallowed down. This was no time to lose her nerve, she told herself, and forced her teeth to let go of her lower lip.

Abruptly, she heard the audience noise die down sharply as the house lights dimmed.

Kate took a breath, straightened her spine, stood up, and caught the eye of the first oboist. He played an A, and the orchestra began to tune up in turn. The lights continued to go down slowly as the audience fell silent and the sounds of A's and E's filled the hall. Kate lifted her violin into position under her chin and tuned it as well.

When all the players lowered their instruments, indicating that they were ready, Kate cast her eye across the group, looking for anyone to catch her gaze and indicate that they needed something. No one did. She glanced across at the chorus; all were looking calmly at her, poised and ready.

She nodded to the assembled group and sat down, knowing that the stage manager would see this and take it as a signal.

Sure enough, within seconds the house lights were completely off, and Chloe came on, resplendent in a pale yellow gown, followed by Brett and Vincent in their tuxedos, and finally Castle in his. The audience burst into applause as they appeared. The four of them made their way to the front of the stage and stood facing the audience, taking a bow.

Then the soloists took their seats and Castle stepped up onto the podium, flipping his score open, taking a moment to look across the gathered orchestra and chorus. He flashed a warm smile at all of them, which many of them returned.

Kate detected the tiny hints of nervousness around the corners of his eyes, the clench of his jaw, the twitchy movements of his fingers. _Right up until the moment when the music starts,_ she remembered him saying, and just as she was thinking that, he turned his head slightly and caught her eye.

Her lips twitched as they looked at each other and she knew, somehow, that he knew. In that moment they were perfectly in sync, both remembering their conversation yesterday about being nervous; and although neither of them had said anything dumb to the other like _Don't worry, you'll be fine,_ the genuine sentiment was there, flowing through the air between them as their eyes met. Kate smiled the tiniest smile, feeling warmed by the connection.

Castle smiled back, and returned his attention to the whole group. He lifted his arms. The orchestra, as one, lifted their instruments into position. The chorus sat straight and still. The audience was silent, waiting.

Castle's baton moved, and the music began.


	17. Chapter 17

_So she poured out the liquid music of her voice to quench the thirst of his spirit._  
-Nathaniel Hawthorne

It was exactly as Beckett and Castle had discussed yesterday: as soon as the music began, the nervousness melted away. Castle's hand felt steady on his baton; his body felt poised but relaxed; his eyes seemed to see the whole orchestra as a unit. He loved this moment of unity, of connection, when all the disparate instruments and the widely varying personalities behind them coalesced into a single organism producing a cohesive, beautiful sound.

Castle was already bouncing on his toes well before the end of the overture, and when he gestured the final cutoff of that first movement, he was smiling. The players, for the most part, were too professional to smile back - firmly in performance mode now, they all kept their expressions serious - but he could see from their eyes and body language that they were feeling the same energy he was.

He risked a quick glance to his left at Kate, and found her poised on the edge of her seat, ready for the next entrance, her eyes glued to him, sparkling. She was enjoying his enjoyment, he decided, and his skin prickled with pleasant goosebumps at the thought.

He turned the other way to make sure that Brett was ready, and they launched into the first tenor solo.

* * *

Kate was also relieved to find that, just as she and Castle had discussed, her nerves calmed as soon as the music began. She felt so comfortable and confident sitting in her chair at the head of the violin section, with her violin under her chin, her bow in her hand, her back straight, and the timeless music flowing from, around, and through her.

The overture and the first few arias and choruses flew by. The audience was attentive and appreciative. They knew better than to applaud after each movement, of course, but after so many years of performing, Kate was adept at reading the little signs that showed whether the listeners were engaged. It was something indefinable in the air; the sense of pleasant expectation in the short silences between movements; the texture and rhythms of the little rustlings that came from the audience in those moments, as they shifted in their seats, or cleared their throats or coughed quietly, or checked their program books, or exchanged looks with each other.

From all those little things Kate could sense that this audience was enjoying the concert - that it was going well. The orchestra was in sync, playing at their best. The chorus sang perfectly, with enthusiasm and feeling; the three soloists were expressive and captivating.

Castle, too, was expressive with his body and hands, as he had been in the rehearsals. Kate found herself flushing hot again as she watched his hands moving through the air. She had to firmly push away the memory of those hands on her body; she could only hope that if anyone noticed her looking pink around the face and neck, they would attribute it to the heat of the stage lights.

Before Kate knew it, Vincent was standing again to sing _For behold, darkness shall cover the earth_ and _The people that walked in darkness_. Kate loved those two bass solos, with their deep brooding portrayal of the metaphorical darkness of the world before Jesus's birth. She especially loved the interplay between the violin's melodic line and the soloist's.

Then it was time for _For Unto Us_ , with its cheerful birthday-party lilt, and then a brief pause - Castle waited while the chorus settled back into their seats and all the little audience noises died down - and they moved smoothly into the _Pifa_.

Kate steadied her breathing and tried to focus her mind completely on the music she was playing, not on what was to come. She struggled a little to hold onto the feeling of complete immersion in the music that had carried her along thus far. She called up the mental image of the peaceful meadows and flowing river that the Pifa had always signified to her, and pictured herself floating calmly on that river, her violin and bow in her hands.

It seemed silly, but it helped. The mental image of the pastoral scene - or perhaps just the underlying feeling of serenity it evoked - calmed her nerves, kept her fingers steady and her mind focused on the music. The Pifa flowed through the performance hall like that same river, soothing.

Then it was over, and she let out a long breath and steeled herself once again.

Slowly she put down her bow and handed her violin to Yukiko. She stood up and moved to the front of the stage. The audience's little rustles intensified, those who had been lulled half to sleep by the Pifa suddenly sharpening and sitting up straighter, attentive. The collective weight of all their eyes on her caused her to falter slightly, but she pushed back her shoulders, firmed her jaw, and stood tall and proud at the edge of the stage.

* * *

Castle found himself almost holding his breath as he watched Beckett stand and take the soloist's spot. He could see that she was nervous, and although he had his back to the audience, he imagined he could feel their attention. But Beckett, as always, pushed aside whatever she was feeling and presented a calm, cool exterior.

Angling his head so that he could keep Beckett in his peripheral vision, he turned his body toward the cellists and cued them. The opening chords rippled out from their bows.

" _There were shepherds abiding in the fields,_ " Beckett sang, and goosebumps raced across Castle's skin at the sound of her voice. It was perfect; she was perfect. He clenched his jaw to keep still, to restrain the shiver of delight that cascaded through his whole body.

He kept the corner of his eye on her, his hands steady, calling up the accompaniment from the strings as Beckett's clear voice told the story of the angel descending from heaven to announce the birth of Jesus.

Castle had to keep reminding himself to stay focused on conducting, not get lost in the music; he nearly missed the moment when he was supposed to cue the chorus to stand up. Luckily, he had written himself a reminder in his score, using bright red pencil, and caught it just in time. The chorus rose smoothly to their feet as a single unit, just as Kate began to sing " _And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host_..."

And Castle was fortunate again that the trumpeters and the rest of the orchestra knew what was coming; they all had their instruments in position and ready, and he brought them in triumphantly on " _Glory to God_." As the movement proceeded, he realized that in his excitement he had set the tempo a little too fast, but the musicians were game, and managed to keep up with it. Fortunately, it was one of the shorter choruses.

Then it was over, and the time had come for Beckett's big aria.

Castle saw and felt the shift in attitude throughout the entire hall. The chorus members, as they took their seats, had their heads up, watching; the instrumentalists, if possible, sat even taller than they had been. From the audience Castle imagined he could feel a further sharpening of interest, a deeply drawn breath of anticipation. From Kate herself, as she stood up again from the fourth soloist's chair, he sensed nothing but utter calm, just as she had displayed yesterday.

He knew that she must look fantastic standing there at the front edge of the stage, in her simple but elegant dress, with her hair swept up dramatically and her graceful neck bared. He wished so badly that he could turn his head and look fully at her, admire her, drink her in; but that wasn't his role at this point in the performance. He took a brief moment to force himself to calm down as well, taking a slow careful breath, reviewing the music in his head so he could be sure of choosing the correct tempo.

Then he lifted his hands and cued the orchestra, and they began.

From the moment of Kate's first " _Rejoice_ ," he could feel that the audience was as captivated as he was. He could see it mirrored on the faces of the chorus members as well. Some of them had zoned out during the solo numbers that had come before, but for this, they were all paying attention. They had heard it yesterday, but this was different; this was the real thing.

And she was singing beautifully - better even than she had yesterday at the dress rehearsal. From the corner of his eye he could see the long flowing lines of her body, nearly vibrating with the powerful tension of tightly controlled energy. The runs, leaps, and trills of _Rejoice Greatly_ were almost ridiculously complicated, Castle thought, but Kate sailed over them with complete confidence. She made it sound easy.

As he slowed the orchestra down for the bridge section, he wondered if this was how all conductors felt, when they had a truly talented vocal soloist on the stage: like they were just the background scenery - the menial assistant - the plucky sidekick - just trying to keep up, to keep pace, while the soloist did all the hard work.

Maybe not. Maybe this was just him, Castle, because he was inexperienced with this kind of conducting. But he didn't care. He was happy to follow wherever Beckett might lead.

* * *

Kate was a little surprised - but pleasantly so - that the confidence she had achieved through the first portion of the concert stayed with her as she moved from playing to singing. And her sense of the rightness of this - of belonging; of being where she needed to be - only increased as she worked her way through the aria. She felt more energized than she had at the dress rehearsal; singing to hundreds of rapt audience members rather than a vast stretch of empty seats was a whole different experience.

She knew that her voice wasn't perfect: she didn't have the strength and stamina of someone who had been toning and exercising her vocal apparatus every day for years; her lungs weren't strong enough to provide enough breath support, so she had to take breaths more often than she should, and her tone was thinner than she would have liked. But she still sounded good. She could hear her voice resonating throughout the performance space, all the way to the back of the audience seats and up into the dome overhead.

Abruptly, in the space of a few measures while the orchestra was playing and she was awaiting her next entrance, it occurred to her that her mother had probably felt this way too - maybe every time. Standing up there on the stage, with all eyes on her, producing music with her body and hearing it fill the room - it was intoxicating, and she could easily imagine it becoming an addiction, an obsession. Her breath hitched and her throat tightened momentarily as the thought hit her.

But there was no time to dwell on that now, and Kate Beckett was an expert at cramming down her feelings about her mother. So she shoved them aside and focused on taking a good, deep diaphragmatic breath for her next entrance.

* * *

Castle noticed Beckett faltering briefly toward the end of the aria, and he felt himself tense, wondering whether he was going to have to cover for her if she couldn't continue. But she seemed to shake it off, whatever it was, and she took a slow breath and resumed singing, perfectly in time. She even put a little extra roll on the R of _Rejoice_.

The aria came to its conclusion and Beckett stood still as a statue, regal, as the orchestra played the closing measures. The audience almost seemed to be holding its breath; everyone knew that they weren't supposed to applaud, but Castle could feel the tension in the room, as if Beckett could give them her sharp narrow-eyed look and they would violate convention for her in a heartbeat.

As soon as the last notes died away and Castle lowered his arms, it was as if the entire hall collectively let out its breath in a soft, heartfelt sigh. Beckett turned and moved smoothly back to her seat. Yukiko slid back into the second seat and handed Kate her violin.

Castle snuck a glance over at Beckett's face and got the distinct sense that she wanted to burst into tears - that couldn't be right, could it? But it was there and gone in a flash, and then she lifted her eyes to him and gave him a tight little nod, and Chloe had already stood up and moved into position, so he turned his attention back to the music.

* * *

When Kate sat back down after singing, her legs were trembling and she felt tears pressing hotly at the backs of her eyelids, but she forced them away. _This is not the time,_ she repeated to herself, _not the time, not the time._ She was grateful that the concert had to continue; there was no choice but to lift her violin back into position, straighten her spine, nod to Castle, and accompany Chloe into her next aria.

A few more arias and choruses went by, and then it was time for the famous, beloved _Hallelujah_. As soon as the familiar opening notes rang out, the audience began to rise to its feet, at first in ragged clumps, then in waves, until the entire room was standing by the time the chorus sang its first " _Hallelujah_."

For the first time, Kate found herself almost wishing she were in the chorus. She had always loved playing this particular piece, but today she suddenly felt the urge to sing it as well. _Maybe next year,_ she told herself, and the thought made her gut clench with a strange mixture of pleasure and trepidation.

" _And He shall reign forever and ever,_ " sang the chorus, " _King of Kings, and Lord of Lords,_ " and the trumpets soared with them, and the timpani boomed triumphantly.

" _Hallelujah!_ "

* * *

The rest of the concert flew by. Castle was in his element, performing, not only for the audience but in a sense for the chorus and orchestra as well. He knew that for the most part he wasn't in control of the quality of the performance; the players and singers were professionals who knew their craft well, and he was mostly just there to keep the tempo and make sure all the parts were coordinated. But it was still exhilarating to be up there, signaling the beginnings and ends of phrases and movements, molding the music with his hands, bringing it into being.

Before he knew it, they were moving through the complex harmonies of the _Amen_ , the four voice parts and the orchestra weaving over and around each other like a dense forest of sound. It seemed to get more and more tangled, until finally, gloriously, all the parts came together in perfect harmony and rhythm for the last two Amens.

As the final notes rang through the hall, Castle let his arms drop, and the audience at last burst into thunderous applause. He gave the orchestra and the breathless, smiling chorus a big goofy grin and a thumbs-up, then turned to smile out at the audience. Half of them were on their feet, clapping and whistling. The stage lights shining into his eyes made it difficult to pick out any individual faces in the crowd, but he thought he spotted the bright heads of his mother and daughter near the front.

He took a quick bow of his own and then gestured to the three vocal soloists, cuing them to stand and take their bows. The audience saluted them with increased applause and a few whistles.

Then he turned his smile toward Beckett, holding out his hand. The noise increased even further as the audience was at last free to express its collective appreciation. Kate's cheeks flushed pink as she rose, still holding her violin, and acknowledged the roar of the crowd with a small bow and an even smaller smile.

Castle waved his arm in a broad sweep that indicated the entire orchestra and the chorus; the instrumentalists stood to acknowledge the applause, then sat again as Castle and the three soloists strode off the stage. The sound of the clapping and cheering followed them off as the house lights began to rise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: Because I've gotten a lot of comments/questions about the music for the concert in this story, here is a little bit of background info.
> 
> Handel's "Messiah" tells a story in three parts. Part One recounts the prophecies that foretold the birth of a savior, and then tells the story of Jesus's birth. This part is commonly performed at Christmastime. Parts Two and Three deal with the crucifixion and resurrection of Jesus, and the resurrection of the dead on Judgment Day; these parts are more often performed around Easter. For live performances in December, it's common to perform Part One plus the famous Hallelujah Chorus (which is in Part Two), and the conductor will often pick and choose a few other bits from Parts Two and Three according to factors such as personal preference, how long they want the concert to be, what the soloists are willing to do, and so forth. In this story, the concert program is fairly sparse in deference to Castle's lack of experience.
> 
> If you'd like to listen to "Messiah," my personal favorite recording is the one by the Boston Baroque Orchestra, which you can find on youtube by searching for a playlist titled "Messiah Boston Baroque." To replicate the concert in this story, listen to numbers 1 through 21, then 33, 38, 44, 47, 48, 53, and 54. Note that although the videos in this playlist are titled like "Messiah 4 of 53," "5 of 53," etc., there are actually 54 parts, and the Amen section mentioned in this chapter is called "54 of 53" in the playlist.
> 
> A final note about the Hallelujah Chorus and why the audience stands up. Legend has it that when "Messiah" was first performed in London for King George II, he was so moved by the Hallelujah that he sprang to his feet. Etiquette demanded that no one else could sit while the king was standing, so the whole audience had to stand. This story may or may not be true, but what is true is that it's still customary nowadays for the audience to stand up during the Hallelujah Chorus. Something to keep in mind if you ever find yourself at a live performance of "Messiah"!


	18. Chapter 18

_I'm not the kind of man who tends to socialize_  
_I seem to lean on old familiar ways_  
_And I ain't no fool for love songs that whisper in my ears_  
_Still crazy after all these years_  
-Paul Simon

Backstage, the stage manager gave Castle a smile and a pat on the shoulder as she moved past him, muttering into her headset. Brett and Vincent shook Castle's hand, and Chloe smiled brilliantly at him and stretched way up on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek.

"Thank you so much. You were great," he told them all sincerely, and they smiled and returned the sentiment. He could see that they were feeling the same giddy good cheer that he was: the post-performance high. It was a familiar feeling, one that had gotten him into a lot of trouble in the past, and, he supposed, probably would do so again.

Then the chorus was coming off the stage, filing out in two orderly rows, also riding that high; many of them wanted to stop and say a word of praise to Castle as they passed. He itched to go and look for Beckett, but forced himself to stay put in his spot by the stage door, smiling and nodding at each of the singers in turn. He pressed their hands and air-kissed their cheeks and said "thank you" and "you sounded wonderful" and "one down, two to go!" again and again, until finally the flood slowed to a trickle.

Out in the performance hall he could hear the buzz of the audience's voices as they gathered their coats and made their way to the exits. Onstage, the orchestra had waited patiently for the chorus to go off, and now were gathering their instruments.

At last Castle caught sight of Beckett, making her way across the backstage area, surrounded by a small crowd of players and singers. Her cheeks were still pink, her lower lip was clamped tightly between her teeth, and her expression was carefully blank, though her eyes were dancing. She was nodding and saying "Yes" and "Thank you" in response to whatever the others were gushing at her.

She looked up and caught Castle's eye, and he couldn't help the grin that burst forth. Feeling like a bumbling idiot, he reached out his hand. His breath almost stopped in his throat when she gave him a bright smile back and took his hand, leaning up to brush her lips across his cheek.

"You were amazing," he murmured, "incredible," and she flushed even more pink and let go of his hand, stepping back.

"Thank you," she said softly, and then a little louder, "You did very well too, Maestro. One could almost believe you've done this before."

The others around her tittered, and Castle grinned, but then Kate's face changed. She suddenly looked timid, like a little girl, and he had to whirl around to see what she had spotted behind him.

Standing a few feet away, just beyond the entrance from the hallway, was an older man whose craggy face was both damp and smiling. Castle had only a moment to blink at the other man before Beckett was flying toward him, and they wrapped each other in a tight hug.

"Katie," the man whispered, and with a start Castle realized that this must be her father. They were murmuring in each other's ears, so he turned quickly away, not wanting to intrude on the private moment.

Just then, Alexis came around the corner, all smiles and with a large bouquet of flowers in her hand. "Dad!" she cried, barreling into him. He hugged her back, grinning again.

"Hey, pumpkin! These aren't for me, are they?"

"Of course. Who else?" his daughter replied with a glint in her eye, disengaging from him as Martha joined them. "The concert was great, Dad. Really."

"Yeah?" He beamed. "I'm glad you liked it. It was fun."

"Yes, Richard, I must admit, for this type of music," his mother said, waving a negligent hand in dismissal of several centuries' worth of artistic endeavor, "it was remarkably entertaining."

"Well, don't strain yourself there, mother," he scoffed, leaning down to kiss her cheek.

"Dad," Alexis whispered loudly in his ear, "if you don't want the flowers, you could give them to her."

"Who?" he asked, all feigned innocence, and both women rolled their eyes.

"Richard, really," Martha chided, casting a significant glance toward Beckett, who was still standing with her father, now conversing with a couple of audience members.

"I'm not sure she's the flower type," he evaded, and then, quickly before they could give him another pair of glares, "but I'll ask, okay?"

But just then he saw Beckett excuse herself and detach from the conversation, slipping away toward the stairs that led down to the locker rooms.

As Castle was standing there debating whether to go after her, to his surprise, her father approached him.

"Maestro Castle? Jim Beckett," the man said, holding out his hand. "That was one heck of a concert."

"Oh - uh, thank you," Castle stammered, shaking Jim's hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, sir."

"Please, call me Jim," Kate's father said, giving him a slow assessing look. Castle remembered Beckett mentioning that her dad was a lawyer; yes, this was certainly a lawyerly look he was getting from the older man. He had to force himself to stand still and not fidget or slouch.

"Jim," he repeated. "And this is my daughter, Alexis, and my mother, Martha."

"Charmed," Martha said, and "Hello" said Alexis as they all exchanged handshakes.

"Katie tells me that you're going out for a bite," Jim went on after the pleasantries were finished. Castle nodded anxiously.

"Uh, well, yes, but I don't mean to take her away from you, if you'd rather, uh-"

"No, no," Jim interrupted, smiling slightly. "I'd be happy to join you all, if your invitation was sincere."

"Of course! Of course it was. We'd love to have you along," Castle declared, trying not to notice four ginger eyebrows rising up. "Uh, why don't we meet in the front lobby? I guess there's some schmoozing to be done first," he added, observing how the corridor was filling up with audience members and musicians alike, all chattering and hugging and exclaiming.

"Yes," Jim Beckett agreed, "you should spend a few minutes saying hello to your adoring fans. Katie will need a moment to finish changing, anyway."

Castle studied the other man and deduced the subtext: Beckett - Kate, that is - had escaped downstairs for a bit of privacy to collect herself before she could face the crowds. Okay, he could buy her some time.

"No problem," he said cheerily. "Mother, let's mingle."

* * *

Kate entered the locker room and retrieved her street clothing from her locker, then closed herself up in a changing cubicle and gave a long sigh of relief.

She had enjoyed the concert - really she had, every bit of it - but it had been a bigger strain on her emotional control than she'd realized. It had all come crashing down on her when she hugged her dad and heard him whisper in her ear how proud he was, how well she had done, how beautiful she sounded and looked. The words of praise might be trite, but they had been what she needed in that moment - and they had opened the door to all the feelings she had been carefully holding back.

Just a few tears had leaked out onto Jim's shoulder, though; the urge to cry that she had felt in the middle of the concert was mostly gone. Her heart felt full, and although it was a bittersweet mixture of emotions roiling through her, she hardly felt any of the guilt, shame, or furious longing that usually struck her when she sang.

Dimly she wondered whether she might feel differently after the adrenaline wore off; but there was another concert to get through first, tonight. And before that, the outing with Castle and his family. At that thought, she felt her cheeks heat up yet again as she removed her dress and pulled on her regular clothes. It was probably just as well that her father, and Castle's mother and daughter, would be there to provide a buffer. With the post-concert thrill still running through her veins, who knew what might happen?

Shaking her head, she pressed her palms against her cheeks in a futile attempt to cool them down. She needed to think about something else, quickly.

Like going back upstairs to run the gauntlet: to face the hordes of well-wishers in the hallways above. She knew it was time. She couldn't hide down here forever.

Normally Kate enjoyed making her way through the happy crowd after a concert; everyone was in a good mood, and the exuberance helped to prolong the pleasant buzz of the adrenaline rush. But today was different, of course, because everyone would want to talk about her singing, and she ... didn't.

She found herself thinking once again about her mother. Kate had so many memories of time spent in hallways like these after concerts: impatient, fidgety, wanting nothing more than to escape with just her mom and dad, whether it was to go out for a celebratory cup of hot cocoa or ice-cream cone, or to go home and be together, just the three of them. By the end of a concert day, young Katie had always had enough of other people fawning over her mom, and it always felt like Johanna took far too long to pull herself away. It always seemed that everyone else came first, and Katie's need for her mother's attention came last.

Now, with adult eyes, Kate could see it differently. She could see in her mind's eye how Johanna had felt torn - loving the attention, the adulation, but knowing that her daughter wanted her all to herself. She remembered how Johanna used to wrap her arms around little Katie's shoulders, holding her close while she chatted and laughed with her friends and fans. It was probably her way of trying to have it all, trying to compromise. But young Kate, as a child and then a grouchy teenager, hadn't been able to see it that way. All she saw was that her mother never seemed to want to stop, to slow down, to focus completely on her daughter.

A few more tears escaped as she paused to let these realizations sink in. She wiped them away, gulped, took a few deep breaths, and pushed it all back once again. She would have to think more about all of this, but later, later, when she had time and quiet space to herself.

Stepping out of the stall, she went over to a sink - exchanging friendly nods with the few other women who were using the locker room - and splashed some cold water on her face, then carefully blotted herself dry and checked the mirror. Her eyes were a little red, but she looked okay. Carefully, focusing on her reflection, she straightened her spine, relaxed her shoulders, and unclenched her jaw. She tried a smile and decided it looked genuine enough. She was as ready as she could get.

She stowed her dress and violin in the locker, took out her coat and purse, locked up, and went out into the basement hallway.

As she walked toward the stairs, she passed by the conductor's dressing room just as the door opened. Castle was coming out, his coat over his arm. "Oh," Kate said in surprise. "Castle?"

"Beckett," he said, equally surprised. "Are you-" He paused, looking up and down the hall, and took hold of her arm.

She gave a little yelp of startlement as Castle pulled her into his dressing room and closed the door. She stared at him, and he stared back, for a brief moment.

Then he tugged her up against him and brought his mouth down onto hers.

She gasped and clutched at his shoulders, surprise quickly melting into heat as she found herself responding. The kiss contained all the passion of the music they'd made together and the things they had felt while looking at each other onstage. His hands were like fire on her back, her waist, her hips, making her shudder with desire as his lips and tongue explored her mouth. She pressed herself against him and dug her fingers into the fabric of his tuxedo.

But it could only last for a minute before she pulled herself away, reluctantly. "I think you meant to say 'are you ready to go,' right, Castle?" she prompted breathlessly. He stared at her, panting, his eyes a little wild.

"Yes," he said after a moment, sighing, letting go of her. "Of course, that's what I meant."

"Because your family and mine are waiting for us upstairs," she added pointedly, and Castle grinned a little, ducking his head sheepishly.

"Right. Wouldn't want to keep them waiting." But he peeked at her between his eyelashes, and she sucked in a quick breath as desire surged again. No, she couldn't give in to it, not now. Oh God, she had been right about needing the buffer of their families. The adrenaline was still rushing through her, heady and fierce.

"The concert went well," she forced herself to say, bending to pick up her purse from where she had dropped it on the floor. "Don't you think?"

Castle sighed again and nodded jerkily, accepting the change of subject. "Yeah, it was great. Seemed like a really big audience too. Is there usually that much of a house for a matinee?"

"No," she admitted, blushing anew, digging in her purse. "Not usually."

She came up with a tissue and stepped forward to wipe her lipstick off of Castle's mouth. He captured her hand in both of his, and she shivered.

"Castle, stop that."

"Stop what?" he asked softly, stroking his thumb across the back of her hand. Butterflies twisted in her stomach, hard, but at the same time, the corners of her mouth curved upward.

"I happen to like nice men," she said, pulling her hand away, turning to check the mirror to make sure her makeup and hair weren't too mussed.

She smirked as she saw astonishment spread over the face of Castle's reflection in the mirror. Tossing the tissue into the trash can, she straightened up, turned, and arched an eyebrow at him.

"Ready to go, Castle?"

"Beckett," he spluttered, gaping like a fish. "You - you seriously just Star Wars'd me. You are, like, the perfect woman."

She pursed her lips to contain another smirk, opting for an eyeroll instead. Her self-confidence was back, resurrected somewhere in between the blaze of Castle's kiss and the mischievous pleasure of teasing him. "Let's go," she said, breezing past him, wrapping her hand around the doorknob. But Castle grabbed her elbow as she was opening the door.

"Can I kiss you again later?" he whispered silkily. His hot breath caressed her ear and she shivered again, but she shook him off and strode out the door, casting a look back at him over her shoulder.

"We'll see," she tossed off, and made for the stairs, not bothering to check whether he was following. Of course he was.

* * *

Castle's throat was dry as he followed Beckett up the stairs. The smell and taste of her still lingered in his senses, and he was hopelessly distracted by the sway of her hips. He had certainly been right earlier; the excitement at the end of a performance had gotten the best of him again. Not that he felt any regret about kissing Beckett, of course. Quite the opposite.

He heaved another sigh and told himself that it was just as well she had stopped him when she did. Much longer, and the families might have come looking for them, and found them... Well. The families were waiting, and after that there was a whole second concert to get through tonight, so he had better find a way to stay focused.

Ah, and here it was, in the form of Lanie, grabbing Beckett as soon as she emerged from the stairwell, and the two older sopranos, Doris and Judith, wanting to introduce Castle to some friend of theirs. "Meet you up front," he managed to mutter into Beckett's ear just as they were dragged off in opposite directions.

It took Castle a good ten minutes to extract himself from the white-haired sopranos' clutches, and then another chorus member got hold of him, and then another eager concert-goer or three. By the time he finally made his way to the front lobby, he found them all waiting for him - his redheads, and Beckett, and her father.

"Sorry to keep everyone waiting," he said, widening his eyes deliberately. "Quite the lion's den in there, isn't it?" He looked at Beckett. "How'd you get out before me?"

"Sharper claws," she replied coolly, and Alexis snorted appreciatively as they all headed for the exit.

* * *

Kate had gotten through the crowd of well-wishers as quickly as she could, smiling and thank-you-ing, but not lingering. So she wasn't surprised when she got to the lobby and found Castle not there yet. She'd caught a glimpse of him in the crowd backstage as she made her way through - he was mingling with abandon, chattering and laughing with everyone. His personality was much better suited to the spotlight than hers, she observed, chewing her lip slowly as the thought and all its implications percolated through her mind.

Her father was off in the corner muttering into his cell phone, and Martha was flirting with the security guard by the door; so Kate leaned against the wall with Alexis, watching the last audience members straggle out in small clumps.

"Does it bother you?" she couldn't help asking, after a moment. The teenager turned her head to look at her.

"What?"

"Waiting around for him," Kate said, gesturing at the rapidly thinning crowd. "Hanging around while he chats up everyone in sight."

Alexis cocked her head thoughtfully. "No," she said after only a short moment of contemplation. "It's just him, the way he is. He just loves people."

"Hmm," Kate murmured, nodding slowly. Alexis was still looking curiously at her. But then Castle appeared in the doorway and it was time to go at last.

* * *

In the town car - which Jim Beckett raised his eyebrows at, and Castle had to admit it skirted the limits of what one might have to call a limousine - Alexis sat next to Castle and leaned her cheek on his shoulder, while the Becketts sat opposite, with Martha on Castle's other side.

"We should go to classical concerts more often," Alexis said, tilting her head to look up at him. "They're interesting and different, for us. And you need more culture."

"Alexis," he protested, pretending to be offended.

"You must admit, Richard, there's more elegance in Handel than any of your operas," his mother put in, "although you certainly know how to bring the drama."

"I'm surrounded by critics," he huffed, and pouted until Alexis laughed and stretched up to kiss his cheek.

Then they were pulling up outside the restaurant, and Martha fluttered in ahead of the rest of them, charming the staff into adding two to their reservation. The cafe wasn't particularly crowded at this off-hour, so it wasn't difficult to make the change, and soon they were all settling into a corner table.


	19. Chapter 19

_...when we hear [music] we realize that we are still bound by a common emotion to those who came before us. Like family, we are irrevocably tied to each other because that same emotion still exists today. This is what all good musicians understand._  
-Billy Joel

"Are you eating, darling?" Martha asked Kate, handing her a menu. Kate took it, looking uncertain.

"Well..." she said, "I didn't have much of a lunch." She paused. "But I don't know - there are so many things they say not to eat before you sing."

"Oh, hogwash, most of it," Martha declared, waving that away. "No coffee before a performance, that's my only rule, and no dairy either, of course."

"My mom had a whole list of things she wouldn't eat or drink before singing," Kate said a little hesitantly, looking at her father. He gave a tight smile.

"That's true. But even she admitted that most of them were probably, uh, 'hogwash,'" he said, nodding toward Martha.

"You should have something," Castle encouraged, leaning forward to peer around Alexis at Kate. "Need your strength for the second concert. I'm having cheesecake with my tea," he added, grinning.

"Dad, no," Alexis scolded. "That's too much fat and sugar. You'll be sluggish by the time the concert starts."

"Oh, fine," he sighed, "how about apple pie? It's fruit! It's practically health food." Alexis rolled her eyes and sighed.

"Soup," Kate decided, studying the menu. "Chicken noodle soup. And water, please," she added to the waiter.

Alexis and Jim just ordered tea, and Martha tea and a half-sandwich; as the waiter departed, Castle turned to his daughter.

"Okay, Alexis, tell us what your favorite part of the concert was. And don't say your ruggedly handsome dad."

"As if," she giggled, tossing her head. "It was Kate, of course."

"Oh," Kate began, protesting, but Alexis wasn't done.

"And I really liked the bass solo with the trumpet. That was so dramatic, didn't you think?" she asked, looking around the table for confirmation. Everyone nodded.

" _The Trumpet Shall Sound_. Yeah, that one's really good," Kate agreed. "Our trumpet player is amazing. I think half the orchestra and chorus have crushes on him."

"I couldn't see him very well from my seat," Martha mused. "Is he hot?"

"Mother," Castle sighed, shuddering.

"Very hot," Kate nodded, amused, "but married."

"Ah, well," Martha shrugged, "such is life."

"Which part did you like best, Mr. Beckett?" Alexis asked politely. Jim looked up from stirring sugar into his tea.

"Ah, well," he said with a small smile, "it's a cliché, but I really enjoyed the _Hallelujah_. It's such a beautiful piece."

"It really is," Castle agreed, nodding.

"But of course," Jim went on, "the best part for me was hearing my Katie sing. I hadn't thought I'd ever get to hear that again. It was wonderful." He gazed fondly at her, and she dropped her eyes to the table.

"Dad..." she said softly, choked.

"You sounded glorious, truly, Katherine," Martha put in, as Alexis nodded emphatically. Kate smiled gratefully across the table at them.

"Thanks, Martha."

"So I guess I owe you a debt of gratitude for that," Jim added, looking over at Castle, who sat up straighter, unnerved by the hint of steel in Jim's eyes.

"Me?" he squeaked, and paused to clear his throat. "I didn't, uh, it was all her decision."

"Oh, I'm sure," Jim nodded. "Katie doesn't do anything she doesn't want to. But it was your idea to begin with, wasn't it? You put the thought in her head. She told me."

"I didn't tell you that," Kate exclaimed, lifting her head in surprise.

"You did," her father said gently. "You said 'the conductor suggested.' You just neglected to mention who the conductor was."

"Oh. I ... I guess I did." She bit her lip, exchanging a look with Jim.

The waiter arrived with the food, and as Castle reached for his fork, he found Jim Beckett giving him another appraising look.

"So," Jim said, and Castle noticed that Kate seemed to tense up at her dad's tone, "I hear you two also spent the week investigating a murder."

Oh. Uh-oh. "You heard about that?" Castle said weakly. Kate was glaring daggers at him. Martha was snickering on his other side.

"Sorry," said Alexis, more to Kate than to Castle, "was I not supposed to say anything?"

"Don't worry about it," Kate said, her expression softening when she looked at the girl. Turning to her father, she added, "We uncovered some evidence and passed it along to the police, that's all."

"That's not all," Castle couldn't help exclaiming. "We solved the case, Beckett - I mean, Kate. We solved it, you and me, not the cops. It was awesome."

Jim's eyebrows went up. "Awesome?" he repeated, and his stern face seemed to become even sterner, yet somehow Castle got the impression that his eyes were twinkling. Damn, but this guy was hard to read.

Castle opened his mouth, but Beckett gave him another look. "Castle," she said warningly, and he subsided with a grumble.

"No, let's hear about it, Katie," Jim said, his expression still unsmiling, though his tone was light. "How did you come to be 'uncovering evidence,' anyway?"

Reluctantly, Kate explained the whole story. Martha and Alexis listened avidly, along with Jim; some of the details were new to them also.

Castle couldn't resist adding a few embellishments to Kate's recitation, though she was still glaring, so he mostly let her tell it. When she got to the dramatic confrontation with Darla, she glossed over most of the details, saying only that she and Castle had presented their evidence and Darla had confessed within Detective Gates's hearing. Castle busied himself with his apple pie, fearing that if he so much as looked Jim's way, the older man would see the reflection of Darla's gun in Castle's eyes.

"Sounds like you had quite the busy week," Jim commented, and Castle risked a peek over at Kate, who had resumed eating her soup.

"Yep," she said between mouthfuls, and Jim narrowed his eyes at her, and Castle suddenly found himself wondering just exactly what kind of teenager Kate Beckett had been.

"Mother," he said to deflect attention, turning toward Martha, "how much longer do you have?"

"Oh..." Martha blinked, checking her watch. "A few more minutes, not to worry, darling. More tea, everyone?"

"You have a performance tonight also?" Jim asked Martha, after the second round of tea had been ordered. "I've heard great things about your play."

"You're too kind, darling," Martha exclaimed, beaming at him. "Would you like to come along? There's an extra comp ticket, since Richard is otherwise occupied. You could keep Alexis company."

Castle barely managed to keep his jaw from dropping at the suggestion. Across the table, he saw Kate raising her eyebrows in surprise as well.

"That would be nice," Alexis offered, giving Jim a shy smile. "I like going to Gram's performances, but I never know anyone there."

"Well..." Jim hesitated. "I wouldn't mind seeing it."

"Then it's settled!" Martha declared, clapping her hands decisively. "Don't worry, Katherine, dear. We'll be sure to have your father home before curfew." She winked. Jim coughed and buried his face in his teacup. Kate gaped for a moment, then gave a shrug, glancing over at Castle.

"Have fun, Dad," was all she said, pursing her lips in amusement. She put her napkin on the table and stood up. "Excuse me."

"Me too," Alexis said, and followed Kate toward the restroom.

Martha launched into another story about her costars, and Castle watched in some amazement as Jim appeared to give her his entire attention.

* * *

In the restroom, Kate had finished washing her hands and was checking her hair in the mirror when Alexis emerged from a stall and came to her side. "Can I ask you something?" the girl asked diffidently.

"Sure."

"Do you, um..." Alexis trailed off, looking down at her hands as she soaped them. "Do you like my dad?"

Kate bit her lip and turned away from the mirror, leaning her hip against the sink, looking at Alexis. "I don't think you mean the friendly kind of liking," she said slowly, stalling. Alexis lifted her head and met Kate's eyes.

"You know what I mean." She waited a moment, then added, "Because he really likes you, you know."

"Really?" Kate repeated faintly, feeling her cheeks flush warm again.

"Yeah." Alexis reached for a paper towel and dried her hands, still studying Kate.

"Alexis, I ... your dad ... well, he knows a lot of women," Kate stammered, not knowing what to say. How did you tell a fifteen-year-old that her father had a reputation?

But Alexis just nodded. "I know, he gets around," she said. "But he's usually pretty careful about keeping those women away from me and Gram. He never invites them to meals with us." She paused, and chose her words carefully. "He never talks about them the way he talks about you. And the way he looks at you? I've never seen him look at anyone like that."

Kate struggled to keep her breathing steady. "Never? Not even your mom?" she asked, her voice shaky. Alexis shook her head.

"They split up when I was a baby, so I've only ever seen them fight."

Kate took a long breath. "I don't ... I don't know what to say."

"That's okay," Alexis said, touching her arm tentatively. "I can see it on your face. Anyway," she added more lightly, "you spent all week working with him, and he told you about the opera, and you haven't killed him yet. So I think you must like him, at least some."

Kate smiled a little. "At least some," she echoed, "I guess that's true," and that seemed to be enough to satisfy Alexis.

* * *

Castle felt very awkward sitting there with his mother and Beckett's father, so it was a relief when Beckett and Alexis returned and it was time to leave. Out on the sidewalk, he embraced his mother, saying "Break a leg," and his daughter, saying "Try to keep Gram out of trouble," and handed them back into the town car.

Kate was hugging her father, who pulled back after a long moment and cupped her cheeks with both hands, gazing at her with such tenderness that Castle was compelled to turn away, feeling like a voyeur.

"Think about it," Jim said, and Kate ducked her head, nodding. Jim clasped Castle's hand briefly and said "Break a leg" before climbing into the car with the redheads.

"Maybe I should have warned him about them," Castle mused aloud as the town car pulled away. He put up his arm to hail a taxi.

"He can handle himself," Beckett murmured in reply, still looking at the sidewalk. Castle was itching to ask her what Jim had wanted her to think about, but, perhaps fortunately, a taxi screeched over to them and the moment was gone.

In the cab, Beckett sat against the far door, gazing out the window. Castle studied her body language and thought she seemed nervous.

"Not worried about the second concert, are you?" he asked. "I think I handled myself okay."

"No," she said, and then blinked, pulling her eyes away from the window to look at him. "I mean, no, I'm not worried," she amended apologetically. "It should be fine. You were fine. The evening performance..." She trailed off, deep in thought. "The evening performance usually goes more smoothly than the matinee," she said after a moment, distractedly.

"You're allowed to be nervous, you know," Castle murmured. She startled, frowning slightly at him.

"I know that," she said uneasily, and turned her face to the window again.

* * *

In fact, Kate was beginning to feel a little nervous about the second concert, but that wasn't what she was thinking about at the moment. Her thoughts were occupied with her conversation with Alexis, and everything that had happened between her and Castle this week.

Castle had not at all behaved the way she had expected, based on his reputation. Off the top of her head Kate could name at least a half-dozen women in the orchestra and chorus who would happily have fallen into bed with him at the slightest suggestion; and all of them were young, pretty, and uncomplicated. None of them had dead mothers and related baggage to carry around. Surely they were much more his type.

But instead he had spent the week showing an interest in her, Kate Beckett, despite all her flaws, despite all the times she had rebuffed him and insulted him. He had introduced her to his mother and daughter. He had asked about her thoughts and opinions. He had started writing an opera based on her - a whole opera! - and had told her about it, even though he knew it might upset her. He had invited her to tea with his family; not just that, but he had invited her father along also. What did it all mean?

After tomorrow's final concert Castle would go back to his flashy rock-star life, and Kate would go back to her quiet, predictable role at the head of the orchestra. So why was he still behaving as if he wanted to get to know her better, spend more time with her? Was it all just an elaborate seduction? Was it just for the opera, for inspiration?

She remembered how he had kissed her on her doorstep last night, how his touch had made her blood sizzle. She thought that if he had pushed just a little - if he had asked to come upstairs - she would probably have said yes. She would have taken him up to her apartment, and most likely they would have ended up in bed. Despite her reservations, her uncertainty, she wouldn't have been able to resist her desire for him. He was her favorite composer, after all, and he was attractive, and good with his hands.

But he hadn't given them that push. He had just kissed her, and then said goodnight and left.

She didn't know what to make of it all.

When he spoke again, in the quiet of the taxicab, in the quiet of her thoughts, it startled her so much that she jumped, pressing a hand to her chest, feeling her heart pounding under the bones.

"Beckett, can we go and get tea or something again after this concert?" he asked. "No families. Just the two of us."

The fluttering in her belly started up again. It was almost as if he had heard her thinking, read her mind. He couldn't know, could he? - that she was wondering what he wanted from her, where this was going?

"I don't know," she hedged, not even realizing that she had begun to bite her lip until she saw Castle's eyes dart down to it. She released it quickly, but his gaze didn't waver from her mouth.

"Kate," he said softly, sliding a little closer to her.

"Symphony Hall," announced the taxi driver, and Kate gave a quick huff that might have been relief, and escaped the cab as quickly as she could.

In the time it took for Castle to pay the driver and get out of the cab, she was halfway up the stairs, surrounded by other musicians returning from wherever they had gone in between concerts; there was no more opportunity for private conversation.

* * *

Castle decided not to pursue Kate through the corridors; he didn't want to make a scene, or risk upsetting her any further. So he took a different route from the one she had taken, detouring past the stage to make sure his score and baton were still in place, pausing to chat with the stage manager and the other assorted people he encountered.

At length he made his way back to his dressing room, and checked himself out in the mirror just in case. But he was already in his tuxedo and his hair was impeccable, so there was nothing more for him to do until showtime.

He sank into a chair and let himself drift pleasantly for a while in thoughts of Kate. He felt pretty sure that once she got over her initial surprise, she would agree to come out with him after this second concert. After all, she had accepted the invitation to tea with his family, despite having turned him down several times before. He knew that she still had her doubts about him - probably because of his reputation, his fame - but he was determined to show her that there was more to him than what lay on the surface.

Now he found himself thinking about Jim Beckett, and the way Kate interacted with him. Their dynamic was an interesting mix of soft and sharp. Sharp! he thought, sitting up straighter. B major with its five sharps would be a good key for a father-daughter duet. He'd had the glimmer of an idea, the other day, for a duet between the protagonist of his new opera and her father; it hadn't gotten anywhere, but now that he'd seen the real thing - the Becketts - the glimmer was growing to a bright flare at the back of his head.

Fortunately, he never went anywhere without staff paper and pencils. He reached urgently for his briefcase.

* * *

Kate made her way quickly back to the locker room and put her dress back on, then sought out Lanie. She found her at the sinks, fixing her makeup.

"Where'd you disappear to, girl?" her friend asked when Kate appeared in her mirror. "We thought we'd see you at Starbucks."

"Nope," Kate said. "Can you help me fix my hair?"

"Sure," Lanie agreed, but her narrowed eyes told Kate that the evasion hadn't gone unnoticed. "Come on over here."

They moved to a bench, where Kate sat and allowed her eyes to drift shut while Lanie undid her bun, brushed her hair out, and constructed a new bun.

"Went out with him, just now, didn't you?" Lanie said quietly in her ear as she worked. Kate didn't open her eyes, but she felt the blush creeping across her skin yet again.

"And his mother and daughter," she said firmly. "And my dad."

"Whoa. Meeting the parents already? That's big, Kate," Lanie exclaimed. Kate sighed and opened her eyes.

"I don't know. Is it? It was just convenient."

"Girl, with you there's no such thing." Lanie put the hairbrush down. "There, you're good to go. And remember what I said before, okay? About not screwing things up?"

"Yeah, yeah," Kate grumbled, but then added grudgingly, "Thanks."

* * *

A knock on the door of the dressing room startled Castle out of his composing haze. "Maestro, are you in there?" called a voice. "It's almost showtime."

"Yes! I'm here," he said blearily, rubbing a hand across his face, blinking his way up out of the new song. He opened the door to find the assistant stage manager looking quizzically at him. "I'm ready," he said. "What's wrong? Is my hair okay?" he added, patting it carefully.

"Hair's fine," the young woman said laconically. "Need anything? Coffee, breath mint, Tylenol?"

"No, thanks," he replied, confused.

She leaned forward slightly, sniffing the air, then shrugged. "Fifteen minutes," she said, and walked off.

Castle glanced in the mirror and saw his red-rimmed eyes, his slightly glazed expression. Oh. The woman probably thought he had been drinking or something. What on earth had Perlmutter gotten up to in this room before concerts? He probably didn't want to know.

Anyway, it was time to put aside his own music and get his head back into _Messiah_.

He carefully closed up his notebook, stowed it back in his briefcase, and headed for the stairs.


	20. Chapter 20

_Ohne Musik wäre das Leben ein Irrtum._  
_(Without music, life would be a mistake.)_  
-Nietzsche

It was always this way, Kate thought: it always seemed like the minutes were crawling along so slowly toward concert time, but then the moment was upon you and it felt so sudden.

She was at the stage door again, her dress on, her hair and makeup perfect, her violin under her arm. The stage manager gave her a nod, and she walked onstage for the second time that day.

Kate often found that the second performance in a series made her more nervous than the first, especially if the first had gone well. Maybe it was the pressure she put on herself, or just a fatalistic superstition, but it usually seemed like she was braced for something to go wrong the second time around.

But that didn't happen tonight. For a change, she felt more confident instead of less, even after she got to her seat and discovered that the audience was bigger than it had been that afternoon. Having cleared the hurdle of singing onstage once (at the dress rehearsal) and twice (at the first concert), she felt entirely calm, ready to conquer it all over again.

And the second concert, if anything, went better than the first. Kate was fully in the music the entire time, immersed, both while playing her violin and while singing. When it came time for her to rise and move to the front of the stage, she was enraptured again by the powerful thrill of filling the performance hall with her voice.

And again, when it came time for _Hallelujah_ , she felt the urge to sing along; she felt the melody buzzing in her throat while she was playing. A smile spread across her face, and even though she couldn't sing with her violin on her shoulder, she let her lips move to the rhythm of the words.

Before she knew it, they were playing through the _Amen_ , and the concert was over, and she was still smiling.

* * *

Castle enjoyed the second concert enormously - much more so than the first. In retrospect, he realized that he had been more nervous the first time around than he'd let on, even to himself. But now, with one successful concert under his belt, his confidence was back and he was able to settle into his role.

The entire ensemble was in sync, playing beautifully throughout. And Beckett's singing captivated him all over again. Her performance was improving with each repetition, he thought; in the afternoon concert she had been brilliant, but now she was sublime - luminous - incandescent - Oh God, he thought fleetingly as he took the orchestra through the closing measures of _Rejoice Greatly_ , he had better not let these superlatives out of his mouth in Beckett's presence; she would throttle him.

He remembered Beckett having said that the audience for the evening concert was usually better than the matinee audience, and that seemed to be true tonight. Although the afternoon audience had been sizeable and appreciative, the evening audience was even more so. The concert hall was completely full, and when the last notes rang out and Castle dropped his arms, the applause was thunderous. The audience continued clapping when Castle and the three soloists went off-stage, requiring them to come back on for a curtain call.

He smiled through the whole thing: a genuine smile of pleasure and satisfaction. And his cheer was infectious, bringing smiles to the faces of the chorus and orchestra also, as they stood basking in the audience's acclaim.

When he went offstage for the second time, even the stage manager and her assistant were smiling. Castle again exchanged handshakes and congratulations with the three soloists, and then, like before, he stood in his spot by the exit and greeted the chorus members as they filed off.

By the time the chorus had all come off the stage and the orchestra began to follow them, the rear corridors were already filling up with audience members eager to meet and greet. Castle was pulled away to hobnob with a couple of city councilors and a member of the orchestra's board of directors. He tried to keep one eye on the stage exit, in hopes of spotting Beckett when she emerged, but it was hopeless amid the mass of people.

* * *

This time, when Kate emerged from the backstage area, she didn't feel the same instinct to flee from the crowds that had gripped her after the first performance. She didn't need to go downstairs and hide until she had regained her composure; this time, she felt firmly in control. She was able to smile and nod and respond graciously to all the gushing well-wishers. The after-concert adrenaline had already kicked in, making her eyes a little brighter, her smile a little wider.

Then a familiar face swam toward her through the sea of chattering heads, and she reached out a hand, her eyes going wide with recognition.

"Roy!" she exclaimed.

"Kate!" called her mother's former voice teacher, Roy Montgomery, coming up to squeeze her hand and kiss her cheek. His wife trailed behind, smiling politely.

"My God, you were incredible," Roy said with feeling. "I got chills, Kate, honest-to-God chills. Your mother would be so proud."

"Thank you," she murmured, her chest swelling with painful pleasure. The praise meant so much, coming from this man. "I'm so glad you could come."

"Are you kidding? I wouldn't have missed this for anything." Then Roy gripped both of her hands in his, and looked her in the eye. "Kate, is this a one-time thing, or are you coming back to it for real? Tell me."

"I..." She had to look away, blinking hard. "Honestly, I haven't been looking beyond these three concerts. I haven't thought about it." She was a little surprised to hear the words come out, but they were true, she realized. She hadn't thought about what was to come, after this.

"Well, you should start thinking about it," Roy urged. "And when you do, my door's open."

"Oh." She looked at him in surprise. "I thought you weren't teaching any more."

"Group lessons only, and advising," he nodded, "but for you? Kate, for you, my door is always open."

"Oh," she repeated, a little faintly. Here, in this corridor resounding with the happy voices of the mingling performers and audience, the vast weight of her possible futures suddenly pressed down on her.

"Think about it," Montgomery said again, and she mustered a smile, brushed cheeks again with him and his wife, and moved off into the crowd.

* * *

Castle spotted Beckett in the corridor, and noted that she seemed a lot more comfortable mingling and receiving compliments than she had earlier. Again he fought the urge to shove his way through the crowd and get to her. It was weird, he thought, how natural it felt for him to stand by her side after only having known her a few days.

The hallway was boisterous with the multitude of voices, and it seemed like every single person there wanted a turn chatting with Castle. He was used to it, and in fact he enjoyed it; but it was nevertheless a relief when the people began to drift away, the din slowly quieting as the corridors emptied out.

At last he found himself at the stairs, and descended, finding the locker-room area still somewhat crowded with performers in various states of dress. Many of them were clearly getting ready to go out for dinner - it was early yet for a Saturday night, if you were young and full of energy. Castle reflected on the fact that, in different circumstances, he himself might be planning to spend the next few hours in some loud club, dancing; or at a bar, drinking; or perhaps going to another late show.

But tonight his mind was on only one thing: Kate Beckett. He still hadn't figured out how to continue spending time with her after the concert series was over, but one step at a time. The first step was getting her to agree to go out with him tonight.

He went into his dressing room and changed back into his regular clothes, hanging the tuxedo up in the little closet. He retrieved his briefcase and coat, and went back out into the hall.

He felt awkward loitering outside the women's locker room, waiting for Beckett to come out. He wasn't even sure whether she was in there; he certainly hoped she hadn't just left without saying anything to him. She wouldn't do that, would she? He stood in the hallway, uncertain, debating the pros and cons of asking a passing woman to go into the locker room and look for Beckett.

He was spared that indignity by the appearance of Beckett herself, emerging from the locker room in her street clothes and coat, carrying her purse and violin case.

"Beckett," he said in relief, and she looked at him with a strange expression.

"Are you stalking me, Castle? That's creepy."

"I'm just standing here," he proclaimed innocently, and grinned a little when she huffed, rolling her eyes.

"Right," she scoffed, but then the humor dropped away and she bit her lip, her eyes sliding aside.

"Listen, Castle," she said softly, "I just ... it's too many people up there." She waved a hand to indicate the hallways upstairs, and looked at him again, her eyes pleading with him to understand. "I've had enough of being stared at for today, you know?"

He frowned slightly, trying to understand. She didn't want to go out and be seen? She didn't want to be around a lot of people? But that didn't necessarily mean she didn't want to go out with _him_ , did it? He decided to take a leap.

"No problem," he said. "But you still have to eat, right? Why don't you come to my place and I'll make dinner?"

Her eyes flew to his face, wide with surprise. "You cook?"

He snorted a short laugh. "Not much choice. Mother's food is _terrible_. Alexis and I would have starved to death if we'd relied on her."

"Oh." Beckett stared at him, apparently lost for words. He felt his heart sink; she was trying to figure out how to let him down gently. That was stupid, asking her to his place, offering to cook for her. He shouldn't have been so forward, so soon. He took a breath in, preparing himself for her rejection.

"That sounds nice," she said softly, and his heart leapt. Disbelief and excitement rushed through him.

"Really?" he managed, trying not to sound as surprised as he was. "I mean, uh ... are you, are you ready? To go?"

She pursed her lips, her eyes snapping anew, and he felt better. Beckett trying not to laugh at him was more like the way things were supposed to be.

"Yeah, Castle, I'm ready."

* * *

Kate felt lightheaded from nerves as she and Castle made their way to the front of Symphony Hall. She wasn't sure what had possessed her to agree to Castle's invitation, except that with the thrill of two successful concerts quickening her pulse, she hated the idea of going back to her quiet, empty apartment by herself while the night was still young.

In the locker room, listening to the other women of the orchestra and chorus chattering about the dinner dates or parties they were going to, Kate had been struck by an unpleasant sense of how boring she had allowed herself to become. What had happened to her? She was not even thirty yet, far too young to become the type who didn't know how to have fun.

She knew that Lanie and some of the others were planning to meet up with their boyfriends and other friends; it would likely just be dinner and drinks, nothing too wild - no one who was performing tomorrow would go out clubbing until all hours - but it would be fun, and they would be happy to have Kate invite herself along. She could do that. She could go out and enjoy herself with a crowd of friends, like a normal young woman.

Or, she could say yes to the man who had spent the whole week trying to get her to go out with him. The man whom she had already kissed several times, and whose hands she couldn't stop looking at when she was playing her violin and he was conducting.

She still had a lot of doubts and questions about Castle and the whole situation ... but after all, she did need to eat. And a quiet dinner at Castle's place might be the perfect compromise between not wanting to go out to a noisy restaurant and not wanting to go home alone.

Besides, she had to admit she was curious - about Castle's living space, and his cooking skills. About who Castle was when he was at home.

All of this flashed through her mind as they went through the front doors and down the wide steps to the sidewalk. Fueled by the adrenaline and the excitement of the day, she decided to put aside her worries for now and try to enjoy herself.

"Just remember, Castle," she said lightly as they waited for a cab, "if you give me food poisoning and I can't sing tomorrow, I will kill you."

"Your faith in my abilities is touching," he shot back, grinning. "Don't worry, Beckett. I guarantee you'll be ... satisfied." His voice dropped to a low register on the end of the sentence, and she shivered a little as the sound insinuated itself along her nerves, raising goosebumps across her whole body.

In the taxi, she half-expected Castle to invade her personal space, but he sat a respectful distance away and folded his hands in his lap, saying, "So, should we be worried that today's concerts went so well, it means tomorrow is doomed? Isn't there some kind of superstition about that?"

"Oh - probably," Kate shrugged, quirking a small smile. "I think it'll be fine, though, as long as everyone keeps the partying to a minimum tonight."

"Right," he nodded. "I guess things could be ugly if half the orchestra shows up hungover tomorrow."

"They won't, though," Kate said with confidence. "They're professionals."

"It wasn't my imagination, was it?" he asked, just a little timidly. "Both the concerts today were great. I mean, it felt that way to me."

"Me too," she admitted, suddenly grateful for the low lighting in the cab, masking the unaccountable flush of her cheeks. "It's not your imagination."

Castle's home turned out to be a loft in SoHo, with a huge lobby already lavishly decorated for the Christmas season, and a doorman who gave them a friendly nod on the way in. After a short elevator ride, they entered the loft, and Kate gazed around in amazement. It was huge, which she had expected, but aside from that it was nothing like what she might have imagined. Castle's furnishings were tasteful and understated, and the whole place felt homey, despite its size.

She was immediately drawn to the bank of windows at the back of the living room, and as soon as Castle had taken her coat, she went over to gaze down at the lights of the city.

"This is quite a view," she said, pulling her eyes away with difficulty, turning to find Castle standing a few feet away, watching her, looking a little embarrassed.

"Yeah, it's great for looking out at while hoping for inspiration to strike."

"I thought I was your inspiration," she said, intending only to needle him, but too late she realized how flirty it sounded.

"Oh, you are, Beckett, and in so many ways," he replied, his voice dropping low again as he took a step closer to her. Her skin prickled deliciously. The delirious buzz of the post-concert adrenaline made her feel free, reckless.

"Yeah, well, your inspiration might strike you sooner than you think," she retorted, her lips twisting mischievously. She turned halfway back toward the windows, looking out again, but her attention was still on Castle, the nearness of his body making hers tingle.

"I really liked that dress," he said softly. "Are you going to wear it again tomorrow?"

The question took her by surprise. "Yes," she said after taking a moment to process it. She turned to look at him again, and the heat in his eyes made her mouth go dry.

Castle shifted, inching still closer to her. His eyes were on her neck and collarbone, which her sweater left bare, though not as much so as the dress.

"I noticed," he said, lifting a hand, "that you don't have that mark on your neck that a lot of violinists have."

His finger landed on her throat and traced a path downward, across her wildly thumping pulse point, into the dip of her clavicle, then back up again, running across the part of her neck where her violin rested when she played. She shuddered deeply, paralyzed against the window frame, staring up at him. She knew he could see the way her skin reddened, the flush creeping up her neck as his eyes followed his finger.

"Why is that?" he asked huskily, still gazing at her neck.

She took a shaky breath and said quietly, "Not everyone gets it. It depends on skin type and-" Her breath hitched in her throat when his finger changed course again, stroking lightly over the spot. "...the padding you use on your chin-rest," she finished hoarsely.

"Hmm," Castle murmured, still watching his finger as it circled the tender skin of her neck. "It looks like a hickey. That's what they call it, don't they? Violinist's hickey?"

"Some people call it that," she confirmed shakily.

Abruptly Castle leaned down and pressed his mouth to the spot. Kate gasped, her hands going to his shoulders to steady herself as his arms came around her back. His mouth was open on her skin, wet and hot, his tongue lightly stroking, the stubble on his cheeks and chin scratching her. Arousal flooded her body and she clung to him like an anchor.

"I could give you a hickey here and no one would know that it wasn't from your violin," he rumbled against her skin, the vibrations of his voice making her shudder. Then his tongue was back, sweeping a path along her neck, and she trembled in his arms. Oh God, she had to get herself back under control. She could not let him make a visible mark there, no matter how good it felt - not if she was going to perform tomorrow with her neck bare.

"No one would know? Only everyone who saw me today," she managed, and Castle paused, lifting his head to look at her face.

"Oh. You think so?"

She huffed out a laugh. "Yeah, Castle, I know so." Her eyes were on his lips, and she was _that_ close to surging up into him for a kiss, when he pulled back and straightened up, letting go of her.

"Right! Okay, well, I better get started on dinner."

He moved away toward the kitchen, leaving her standing there breathless, her whole body tingling.


	21. Chapter 21

_I'm not too articulate when it comes to explaining how I feel about things. But my music does it for me, it really does. There, in the chords and melodies, is everything I want to say._  
-David Bowie

After a moment Kate recovered her composure - somewhat - and followed Castle toward his kitchen. Passing by the piano, she noticed music paper strewn all over it and the small table beside it; the pages were riotously strewn with musical notes and scrawled words, and she realized that this must be his new opera in progress. The temptation to peek was strong, but she resisted.

"Wine?" Castle asked as she came over to the kitchen island. Then, catching himself, he looked over at her and added, "Or is that on the list of things you're not supposed to have before singing?"

She bit her lip, thinking about it. It was probably okay to have a little wine the night before a performance. "Maybe just a small glass," she said. He nodded, and poured from a bottle he took from the fridge.

"Dinner won't take long," he said, sliding the glass over to her. "Turkey meatballs okay?"

"Sure. I can help," she offered, but Castle shook his head.

"Nope, you're the guest. Sit."

So she sat on a stool at the other side of the island, and watched as Castle sliced mushrooms and sauteed them in olive oil, then added homemade tomato sauce and meatballs from a jar he took from the fridge. He had a pot of water on another burner, and when it boiled he added spaghetti.

Kate was mesmerized by his hands, those hands she couldn't stop imagining on her body. Her mind whirled with confused thoughts and desperate desire. She could still feel the ghost of the touch of his mouth on her neck, spreading heat throughout her body.

She took another sip of her wine and asked, "Can I use your bathroom?"

"Of course." He nodded toward a hallway behind her. "First door on the left."

She took her time in the bathroom, giving herself a chance to cool down a bit, looking at her flushed face in the mirror.

She supposed that this might be the moment to decide that coming here had been a mistake, but, somewhat to her surprise, she didn't feel that way. If Castle touched her again - no, _when_ he touched her again - she didn't know whether she'd be able to resist. But if she were truly honest with herself, she'd have to admit that she didn't want to resist him. Hadn't she just been thinking that she needed to remember how to have fun?

She knew that she should figure some things out first; she should talk to Castle before doing anything reckless - figure out what he was thinking, what he wanted - what she wanted - while she still had a hold on her self-control. But that hold was slipping, and maybe letting go of it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world.

She blew out a long breath, nodded shortly at her reflection, and went back out.

In the kitchen, Castle was holding a large bowl in which he had constructed a salad. "Marshmallows?" he asked, looking up to raise an inquisitive eyebrow. Kate blinked in confusion as she slid back onto her stool.

"Um ... what?"

"Do you want marshmallows in your salad?" He pursed his lips, looking into the bowl again. "It needs something."

Kate opened her mouth, closed it, opened it again. She honestly couldn't decide whether he was serious. "Have you, uh, do you always put marshmallows in your salad?" she managed.

"Nope, never tried it," he replied, "but it could be good, don't you think?"

"No, I don't," she said firmly. "Castle-"

"How about walnuts?"

"Okay," she said cautiously. "Walnuts are good."

"Yeah." He tossed a handful of walnuts into the salad, stirred the pasta, stirred the sauce. "Ready." He nodded toward the dining table in a corner of the living room. "Have a seat, Beckett."

* * *

Castle felt a little reluctant to leave the safety of the kitchen. When he was cooking, he felt at ease, but as he carried the food over to the table, he suddenly felt a very unfamiliar nervousness. He hadn't been this flustered around a woman since ... well, maybe never.

He had to force himself not to think about the way Kate smelled, the taste of her skin, the feel of her body in his arms. _Food, Rick. Focus on the food._

"It smells amazing," Beckett murmured as he put the plate in front of her. "Thanks, Castle."

"Any time," he replied, seating himself. He noticed that despite having lingered in the bathroom - presumably to restore her composure - Kate still seemed a little flushed. Her breathing was a little faster than usual, her eyes bright. The knowledge that she was as affected by him as he was by her went a long way toward restoring his confidence. He saw her watching his hands as he served the food.

"Hot," he said in his low seductive voice, and smirked when her eyes flew up to his face, questioning.

"The food," he clarified, grinning. "Be careful."

"I'm always careful with what I put in my mouth," she replied, keeping a perfectly straight face, and he could only stare, dropping down into his seat with a thump, rendered speechless yet again by Beckett.

He just might be in over his head here, he realized dazedly. But there was nowhere he'd rather be.

"Tell me about the opera," Beckett said coolly, as they began to eat. "This character who's based on me. You said her mother was murdered?"

"Yeah," he nodded, feeling a strange mix of eagerness and reluctance. What if Beckett didn't like his opera? The thought was painful.

"Her mother gets killed," he reiterated, "and the cops can't solve the case, so she quits music and enters the police academy, works her way up to detective. She becomes the best homicide detective in the city, getting justice for others, all with the ultimate goal of catching her mother's killer."

"And does she? Catch the killer?" Beckett asked, her eyes never leaving his face.

"Yeah, of course," he exclaimed, wide-eyed. "It's a narrative inevitability. The story demands it."

"I see." Her eyes narrowed at that. "Does the story also demand that she has a love interest? Is he a composer by any chance?"

"Give me a little credit, Beckett," he huffed. "He's a journalist."

"Oh, a journalist. My mistake," she teased lightly, smiling down at her plate. Castle's chest loosened a little. She was eating his food and joking about his work; it couldn't be too bad. She hadn't said the plot was terrible yet. Nor the spaghetti.

"He's doing an investigative magazine piece about the best cops in the NYPD," he explained, "so he gets permission to follow her around, observe how she works. He finds out about her mother and encourages her to dig into the case again."

"Hmm," Beckett mused, thinking about it. "Sounds interesting." Then she focused on him again. "Does it have a title yet?"

"Oh, yeah. _Heat Wave_." He grinned proudly. "It takes place during the summer, and in the middle of the story there'll be some blackouts because of the heat. Great opportunity for interesting scenes in the dark."

"And for scenes where the leading lady takes off her clothes to cool down?" Beckett asked skeptically, but she was smirking now.

"Why, Beckett, I don't know if I like what you're implying," he said in an injured tone. "More wine?"

"No, thank you. And I'm not implying anything," she declared. "I'm saying it straight out: you always manage to find excuses to get your female characters half-naked."

"You really do know my work," he exclaimed, grinning, and she let out a real laugh at that, delighting him.

He refilled her water glass, and resisted the urge to ask her which of his operas was her favorite - how many times she had seen them - what she thought of his songs. Instead, he said lightly, "So what's next for the symphony orchestra, after _Messiah_? Do you start up rehearsing again on Monday?"

"No," she replied, "we have the week off, but I have a bunch of tutoring sessions scheduled."

"Ah," he said, quietly delighting in that little tidbit of information. She had the whole week off! Surely he could make something of that. But he kept his cool - mostly - and said only, "Tell me about your tutoring students."

A couple of stories about her students led him to recount a story about the time his mother had tried to teach an acting class, which got them both laughing, and before he knew it the food was gone and Beckett was still smiling, seeming much more relaxed than she had when they first walked in.

"Would you like some coffee?" Castle asked, standing up to take the dirty plates to the sink. Then, remembering, he amended, "Decaf, I mean. Or tea?"

"Tea is fine," Beckett replied, following him to the kitchen with the empty salad bowl and the two wine glasses.

"You don't have to clear the table," he scolded, taking the bowl from her. "Go and sit."

"I can help. It's no problem," she objected. Their fingers brushed as she passed him the glasses, and he felt a jolt of excitement shoot down his spine. He tried to take a calming breath as he turned to put the glasses in the sink, but the deep slow inhale did little toward soothing his nerves.

Somehow, when he turned back to Beckett, he managed not to push her up against the kitchen counter and ravage her. Instead he said, carefully controlling his voice, "What kind of tea do you want?" He reached to open a cabinet. "I've got chamomile, lemon, peppermint, mango..."

"Lemon, please," she said, and reached for the dish sponge, but he nudged her aside.

"None of that, Beckett. Go sit on the couch."

When he brought the tea over, she had kicked off her shoes and pulled her legs up underneath her on the couch. She was glancing through a magazine, looking entirely relaxed and comfortable in his home. His heart gave a little flip in his chest at the sight. He wanted to see her right there, just like that, every morning and night. He closed his eyes briefly and tried to push the thought away.

"Here you go."

"Thanks," she said, taking the mug from him. He sat down with his own mug, carefully choosing a spot just far enough from her to be polite, but not so far as to be out of reach. Just in case.

She sipped her tea, and he tried not to watch the way her tongue ran around her lips after the first sip, evaluating the flavor. Apparently she liked it, because she took another sip, savoring it.

Then she looked up and caught him watching her mouth. Oops. Busted.

"Castle," she said dangerously, and he gulped.

"Sorry," he said nervously, taking a sip of his own tea, then putting the mug down on the coffee table in case she was about to hit him.

"What are you doing?" Beckett demanded, her expression suddenly hard, and pained. He swallowed again, carefully.

"What do you mean?" he asked, although he was pretty sure he knew.

"This..." She waved her hand vaguely, indicating the room, the dining table, the two of them, the tea. "All of this. What's it all for? What do you want?"

Oh. So this was it: the moment of truth. The moment _for_ truth. He was a little surprised that she had asked outright, so boldly; but when he looked into her eyes, he saw heat there, and thought that maybe he understood. She wanted him, just as much as he wanted her - the thought warmed him - but she was still unsure.

"Beckett…" He risked sliding a little closer to her on the couch. "What do I want? I want tomorrow to not be the last time I ever see you. I want to get to know you better." A realization hit him like a flash of light, and came out of his mouth in the next instant. "I want you to be the first person to read the new opera when it's finished."

"Castle," she breathed, her eyes going wide.

He plucked the mug of tea out of her hand and set it on the coffee table. When he turned back to her, her eyes were burning, deep green and fierce with what he thought - he hoped - was the same desire that was gripping him.

"I want to give you that hickey," he said, low-voiced, running his finger along her neck again and seeing her shiver. "Not tonight. But soon." He watched in fascination as her face and neck flushed pink.

"What do _you_ want, Beckett?" he asked softly,

Instead of answering, she leaned toward him, slowly, studying his face. Her hand came up to curl around the back of his neck and pull him closer. He went willingly.

Then they were kissing again and he groaned deeply with relief and delight. Oh God, her tongue in his mouth and her arms around his neck, exactly what he wanted. He snaked an arm around her waist and tugged, pulling her across his lap. She didn't object; in fact, she pressed her upper body more tightly against his and moaned into his mouth.

He tasted the lemon tea on her tongue, and behind it the remnants of the food he had cooked, the wine, and just Kate. Delicious. His other hand was on her hip, fingertips flirting with the hem of her sweater. He slipped them under the fabric and found soft warm skin, and felt her shudder against him.

Breaking the kiss for air, he trailed his mouth along her jaw and down, toward the spot he had tasted earlier.

"No - don't," Kate gasped, though her hands were in his hair, holding him in place. "No hickeys."

"I won't," he murmured, "I promise," so he closed his lips and brushed feathery kisses along her neck, relishing the way she wriggled in his arms and the soft breathy noises that she made.

He felt her fingers on his shirt buttons, opening them and slipping her hand over the planes of his chest, but as he moved his way up behind her ear a thought began to nag at the back of his mind. And when he found the spot that made Beckett squirm and drew a higher-pitched mewl of pleasure from her throat, the thought abruptly solidified and he groaned with dismay, pulling back.

"Wait, wait. I can't, we can't," he panted, groaning again at the sight of Kate's flushed face, her tousled hair, her lips shiny and swollen from kissing. Oh God, this was going to be painful.

"What?" she demanded, frowning, reaching for him, but he reluctantly pulled her hands away and shifted her off of him, back onto the couch. He scrambled for words, his brain whirling.

"I'm sorry. I'm really sorry, Beckett," he got out hastily, willing her to believe him. "I just, I don't want to be responsible for you being unable to sing tomorrow."

She blinked, her frown deepening as she struggled to understand. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Well, if you hurt your throat, you know..." he ducked his head, embarrassed, "...if you scream too much and then tomorrow your throat will be sore and you won't be able to sing."

He risked lifting his eyes to look at her, his gut clenching again. Even scowling at him in a mixture of confusion and anger, she was still gorgeous.

"You can't be serious," she gritted out, and he shivered involuntarily at the husky rasp to her voice.

"I am," he insisted, trying to tell his body to shift away from her, though all it wanted to do was tilt closer. "I want to make you scream, Kate." He heard her suck in a sharp breath at that, and his own breathing hitched in his throat. "And if I - if we - I don't want us to feel like we have to hold back. Come on," he added, putting silky persuasion in his tone, "haven't you ever ... enjoyed it so much that the next day you could barely talk?"

Beckett's lips parted and she let out a slow breath, her gaze piercing. "God, Castle. That is so..."

"Thoughtful?" he offered hopefully.

"Arrogant," she snapped, her eyes flashing hot. Oh. Damn it. He did a rapid mental review of what he had just said.

"Maybe it was," he conceded, "but Beckett, listen, I didn't mean it that way. I just, I'm so-" _don't say 'in love with you'!_ "-lucky you haven't killed me yet," he finished, sighing internally at his own incoherence. Arousal was still running through his veins, intoxicating, distracting.

Beckett was still frowning, arms crossed over her chest, but she cocked her head at that and said sternly, "Castle ... you do remember that I'm not really a cop, right? I don't have ninja kung-fu fighting skills."

"Why?" he exclaimed, pained. "Why would you disillusion me like that?" It was stupid, but somehow, by some miracle, his idiocy managed to break a crack in her demeanor. Her lips twitched slightly and he knew that things would be okay. Relief flooded through him.

"No, but seriously," he said, taking her hand, "I just don't want you to be mad at me. I mean, any more than you already are. I don't want to mess this up." He looked into her face and saw that she was softening. "Kate," he went on quietly, running his thumb across her knuckles. "Tomorrow, after the last concert. Promise me that won't be the last time I ever see you. Say you'll come out with me again for lunch, or dinner, or something. Please?"

She stared at him, her expression unreadable. He held his breath.

"Okay," she said at last, and his heart leapt. "But I'm still mad at you," she added darkly, pulling her hand back out of his grip.

"For not giving you a hickey?" he asked with a small teasing grin, shifting closer to her. She narrowed her eyes dangerously.

"Don't push your luck, Castle."

"I wouldn't dream of it," he proclaimed, lifting his hands in a gesture of surrender. "Ninja skills notwithstanding, I know you could find a way to kill me if you really wanted to. And no cop would ever be able to pin it on you."

Beckett's lips twitched again with amusement. Then she leaned forward, her palms cupping his cheeks, and planted a hot wet kiss on his mouth that left him breathless, wordless, and nearly brainless.

By the time he blinked his way back to planet Earth, she was standing up, her shoes back on, and halfway to the foyer closet to retrieve her coat.

"Thanks for dinner, Castle," she said as he helped her into the coat. "It was delicious." _You were delicious,_ he thought her eyes were saying, but no, no, he was probably imagining things. Was Beckett teasing him? What was going on? He was in a complete daze.

"Uh." _Smooth, Rick._ "Uh, thanks for joining me, Beckett. I'll see you tomorrow."

"See you tomorrow," she echoed, and she took her belongings and left.


	22. Chapter 22

_Music is like a mirror in front of you. You're exposing everything, but surely that's better than suppressing._  
-Enya

Kate was up early the next morning and went for a run in the dim light of the December morning. It was cold and overcast, and as she jogged along the streets of Manhattan she saw several people doing obvious walks of shame. She couldn't help thinking that, if things had gone differently, that could have been her as well: sneaking out of Castle's loft in yesterday's clothes in the early Sunday-morning chill.

She was certainly better off not having to do that, she reflected as she retraced her steps toward home.

It was ironic, perhaps, that after she had spent so much time debating whether to let things move forward with him, it was Castle who had put a stop to their make-out session last night. In the moment she'd been angry and, yes, a little hurt. But she had to admit - to herself, never to Castle - that his reasoning was valid, and kind of sweet. She was no stranger to morning-after hoarseness, and she knew, somehow, that with Castle she wouldn't be quiet in bed. So that could certainly have spelled disaster for today's final concert.

In the taxi on the way home from his loft last night, another thought had suddenly struck her. She'd remembered her father sleeping on the couch many times when she was young, and it had never occurred to her until now that all of those occasions happened the night before Johanna had a performance. In particular, Kate remembered one morning when Jim came yawning into the kitchen from the living room, rumpled with sleep, and young Katie couldn't understand the looks that her parents kept shooting at each other over her head.

But now, many years later, she remembered and squirmed with distaste at the thought. Ugh, she really did not need this knowledge in her head.

She wondered whether Castle had been speaking from past experience as well. Surely he had dated other singers in his time. Then her smooth, sure jogging stride faltered as she realized how she had mentally phrased that: _other_ singers? Was she thinking of herself as a singer now?

That thought followed her all the way up to her apartment and into the shower.

After she had dried off and dressed, she made herself a plate of eggs with toast, fruit, and green tea. She had just finished eating when the phone rang, and she saw her father's name on the caller ID.

"Hi, Dad."

"Good morning, Katie. How was your second concert last night?"

"It was good. Great," she corrected herself. "And how was Martha's play? Was it weird sitting with Alexis? You hardly know her."

"No, it wasn't weird," he replied. "She's a very personable young woman. I enjoyed the play, and her company." He chuckled softly, adding, "I skipped the wild after-parties, though. That's not my style, you know."

"I do know," Kate laughed, trying and failing to picture her dad carousing with Martha Rodgers and an entire acting troupe into the wee hours. "I'm glad you had a good time, though."

"Yes. Listen, I have a brunch with some clients, so I can't talk long. I just thought I'd better call early, to wish you well for today. Break a leg. I'm sure you'll be wonderful."

"Thanks, Dad," she smiled. "Talk again soon."

After she and Jim hung up, Kate cleared away her dishes, tidied the kitchen, and went to the living room to put in some violin practice.

Finished with that, she put her violin and bow into their case, and set the case next to the door. Then she found herself at her stereo again. The _Messiah_ disc was still in the CD player, and she pressed Play and skipped forward to the _Hallelujah_.

The familiar, beautiful strains filled the air, and as she moved around the living room with a cleaning cloth, she indulged herself in singing along full-throatedly with the chorus.

As the final notes drifted away, she heard a knock on the door. Hastily, she stopped the CD and went to look through the peephole.

"Castle?" she exclaimed, surprised.

"Are you decent?" his voice came through the door. She rolled her eyes and opened the door so he could see her jeans and t-shirt.

"Don't look so disappointed," she scolded.

"Gotta admit I was hoping to find you more ... indecent," he replied, waggling his eyebrows. A soft chuckle escaped her and she waved him in. "Enjoying the _Hallelujah_?" he added as he entered her apartment. Her cheeks heated up.

"I was just..." she mumbled, but he cut her off, smiling.

"You don't have to make excuses. It's a great piece, so much fun. And I saw you trying to sing along yesterday during the concert."

"Oh." Embarrassed, she wondered whether anyone else had noticed. "What are you doing here, anyway, Castle?" she demanded defensively.

"Right!" He turned from his perusal of her living space to smile at her again, as earnest as a little boy. "Well, I was up early, so I thought I'd come by and bring you coffee and a donut."

Kate looked pointedly at his empty hands, and raised her eyebrows.

"...But then I remembered that you aren't supposed to have coffee before you sing," he added sheepishly, "and a donut is probably too much fat and carbs. So instead I bring you promises of coffee and donuts for later ... and this." He pulled a newspaper from his coat pocket.

"The morning paper?" she said, confused.

"Yeah. Did you read it? There's a review."

Oh. She had her copy on the kitchen table, but she hadn't looked at the arts pages yet. "A review? Really? Is it any good?"

"It's awesome. Get this." He unfolded the paper, scanned across the lines, and read aloud in a booming news-anchor voice. "'The New York Symphony sought to bring fresh life to the familiar oratorio, with reasonable success. Maestro Castle, despite limited experience with classical conducting, did a more than adequate job of coaxing expression and depth of feeling from the ensemble.'" He paused to grin over at her. "More than adequate! That's the nicest thing anyone has said about me in ages."

Kate couldn't restrain a laugh at that. "It's not exactly a rave review, Castle."

"Oh, but I'm not finished. Listen - 'But the highlight of the show by far was soprano Kate Beckett, formerly known as concertmaster Kate Beckett, whose unexpected appearance in the solo role dazzled and enthralled the entire audience. Her light coloratura was perfectly suited to the vocal gymnastics of _Rejoice Greatly_ , and one is forced to wonder whether the symphony may soon be in the market for a new first violinist.'"

"Does it really say that?" she gasped, her face flushing anew. She grabbed for the paper and Castle let her take it from his hand.

"It really does," he confirmed.

"This is crazy," she muttered, scanning the words. Castle nodded agreement.

"Yeah, I know. 'One is forced to wonder'? I mean, who talks like that?"

She gave him a sour look and handed the paper back.

"Anyway," he added, "all the other papers are saying the same kind of things, and the blogs, the websites, everyone. You've made quite a splash." He looked carefully at her. "Don't freak out."

"I'm not freaking out," she muttered, turning away, closing her eyes briefly to let it all sink in. The phone hadn't rung incessantly this morning like it had yesterday, so she'd thought….

"Maybe just a little?" Castle asked, but his tone was gentle, not teasing. "Beckett, let me give you a ride in. I've got my car."

She glanced at the clock. It was indeed almost time to get going to Symphony Hall for the final concert.

"Unless you're still mad at me," he added uncertainly.

Kate looked at him, pursing her lips. She wasn't angry with him any more, in fact, but she hesitated, debating the merits of stringing him along for a little while longer - making him sweat.

Her silence brought him to the wrong conclusion and he took a step closer to her, saying softly, "Tell me what I can do to fix this."

She looked up into his eyes, and, without fully thinking it through, blurted out "Tell me about Alexis's mother."

"Meredith?" Castle grimaced, looking away, running a hand through his hair. "Not much to tell. We were young and stupid. She got pregnant, and I thought getting married would solve everything." He shrugged uncomfortably. "I didn't realize that we ... wanted different things."

"She didn't want a baby?" Kate asked quietly. He shook his head.

"No. And she resented having to put her career on hold. She couldn't wait to push the baby out and get back to Hollywood." His eyebrows drew down. "Then she found someone else to sleep with, and that was the end of it."

Kate felt her mouth fall open. "She what? Oh, Castle. I'm sorry." The look on his face made her regret having brought up the topic.

"Doesn't matter," he shrugged, visibly shaking it off. "We both got what we wanted in the end. Meredith got her freedom, and I got Alexis."

Kate took a slow breath, shaking her head. "How could anyone cheat on you?" she wondered aloud, and then blushed fiercely as she suddenly realized how that sounded. Well. No use trying to pretend she was still mad at him, she supposed.

The import of her words didn't escape Castle; he smirked, and she braced herself for some kind of innuendo-laden taunt, but all he said was, "Well, I can be a bit of a jackass sometimes."

"You don't say," she quipped dryly. Her cheeks were still flaming, but the banter took the edge off her embarrassment.

"Kate," he said softly, stepping even closer to her. His eyes were the deep blue of the ocean, swimming with feeling. Her pulse sped up as she looked into them.

"It's time to go," she said quietly, and stepped away.

* * *

In the car, it was mostly silent. Castle tried not to watch Beckett as he drove; she sat with her _Messiah_ score on her lap, reviewing the music for what must be the millionth time.

He was relieved that she seemed to have forgiven him for last night's shenanigans, and, although it surprised him to realize it, he was glad to have told her about his ex-wife. He didn't think the story painted him in a very flattering light, but after all, he wasn't the one who had cheated. And Beckett's response had been ... gratifying. It was good to know that last night hadn't changed how she reacted to him.

He thought that she had been more rattled by the newspaper review, and the added attention that it represented, than she was letting on; but she seemed more relaxed now, closing her score as they approached the Symphony Hall parking garage.

"So this is it, the last concert," he commented as he steered the car into the garage. "Any last words of advice for your rookie conductor?"

"What do you need advice for? You're already 'more than adequate,'" she teased, her eyes twinkling as she gathered up her bag and violin. He chuckled as he took the keys out of the ignition and reached to snag his briefcase from the back seat.

"Thought I might try for 'surprisingly acceptable' today," he joked, following Beckett to the elevator.

As soon as they emerged into the corridors of Symphony Hall, at least three instrumentalists needed immediate attention from Beckett, and so it began. Castle left her to it and wandered off to his dressing room, musing about the whole week: how much he had enjoyed it - despite the trauma of witnessing Annabel's murder - and how quickly it had gone by. He almost wished there could be some way to slow down and savor the final concert, but of course, once the lights went up, it would be the beginning of the end.

Thinking about this, he put on his tuxedo and then went back out into the basement hallway, where he could hear the chorus warming up. He followed the sound to a large practice room and found almost the entire chorus gathered there, vocalizing their warmup exercises under Lanie's direction. She paused when she saw Castle come in, but he gestured her to continue.

"Please, don't let me interrupt," he said. "But I would like to say a few words, once you're finished."

"Go ahead, Maestro," Lanie encouraged. The chorus members looked at him expectantly, most of them smiling, as he turned to face them.

"I won't keep you long," he promised. "I just wanted to thank all of you, for being so welcoming and making this week so enjoyable. I've had an amazing time and we've made some beautiful music together. It's really been a great experience. So, thank you."

"No, thank you!" called a voice from the back, and the entire chorus burst into applause. Castle smiled and waved in appreciation.

The group broke up then, the singers moving off to do their final prep, and Castle hung around for a few minutes to chat with those who approached him. Eventually he made his way back out into the hallway and found Beckett there, leaning against the wall with a small smile on her lips. She was wearing the black dress again, her hair up; she looked stunning, as always. He paused in the doorway to take her in, his mouth going dry.

"Nice little speech," she commented, the words entirely sincere, not sarcastic.

"Well, I meant it," he replied seriously, stepping toward her. "I'd love to say the same to the orchestra, but it's hard to get them all in one place."

"Most of them are on stage now," she said, and he could take a hint; he paused to take her hand and press it briefly between both of his - the slight contact made his spine tingle, and Beckett's cheeks pinked up enticingly - and then he moved off, heading upstairs.

Most of the orchestra members were indeed on the stage, and they looked up attentively when he began to speak. He gave them a variation of the same thanks he had given the chorus, and the instrumentalists all smiled and nodded their appreciation.

Then the stage manager urged Castle offstage, as the audience was beginning to come in. He retreated, and spent a final few minutes paging through his _Messiah_ score, reviewing his few trouble spots one last time.

Before he knew it, the time had come. Beckett had tuned the orchestra and everyone was in place. Castle met up with Brett, Vincent, and Chloe backstage, and they all nodded and smiled at each other, inhaled deeply, and walked out into the spotlight.

There was, as he had expected, no time to pause, take a breath, savor the moment. He was onstage, the audience was expectantly watching and listening, the singers were seated, the orchestra was ready. Beckett was a steadfast, reliable presence at his left, somehow both reassuring and pleasantly unbalancing him at the same time. He lifted his arms and felt the attention of everyone in the room weighing down on him, but not in a bad way; he felt energized by it, excited.

He started the music, and off they went.

* * *

Without realizing it, Kate was thinking along the same lines as Castle. She was feeling bittersweet about the final _Messiah_ concert, in a way that she usually didn't. She loved the piece, but after having performed it so many times, she sometimes found it hard to get excited for another round. But this year, of course, everything was different. This year she was singing; this year there had been a death in the midst of it; this year there was Castle.

So she was looking forward to performing it once more, and feeling both sad and relieved that it was the last time for now. And she had decidedly mixed feelings about what would happen next - with Castle, with her career, all of it. Could she go back to being regular Kate Beckett, first violinist, after having gotten a taste of what it was like to sing onstage?

All of these thoughts and feelings were swirling through her mind as she settled into her seat on the stage and saw Castle sneaking a glance over at her. There was a private sparkle in his eyes that was meant only for her, and she had to bite the inside of her cheek to hold back the answering smile that threatened to burst forth. She forced herself to stay professional, to sit up straight and tall, to hold her violin steady under her chin and her bow poised, waiting for Castle's signal.

They launched into the overture and she felt a swell of deep satisfaction filling her chest. Whatever was to come, she knew that music would always be a part of her life.

The concert slipped by in a rush; the orchestra was perfectly in sync, the chorus crackling with energy, the soloists dazzling. The _Pifa_ was upon them and Kate felt no anxiety at all, no nervousness creeping into her fingers or tightening her throat today. She floated serenely on the beautiful music, and then it was time to stand up and sing.

Castle flashed her a tiny, quick smile as she moved into position. She kept her expression blank, but she gave him the briefest of glances and knew that he could see the response in her eyes.

Then she was singing and everything melted away; everything except the music.

* * *

The applause was deafening when the concert ended, and the audience demanded another curtain call, which Castle and the soloists were happy to provide. At last they retreated to the backstage area for the final time, all smiling and congratulating each other, thumping each other on the back as the clapping died away and the noise of the audience's chattering voices rose.

Castle stayed in place as before, greeting the chorus members as they came offstage. All were lively and bubbling with the success of the final concert. He complimented them and thanked them, wished them happy holidays, and smiled until his cheeks almost ached.

When Beckett finally appeared, she wore another secretive smile that he was sure was just for him, and it made his breath catch in his throat. She had sung beautifully again, of course; she was incredible - magical - he had no words. He could only wrap his hand around hers and accept the kiss that she brushed across his cheek, murmuring "Wow" into her ear, making her laugh.

"Eloquent as always, Maestro," she teased in a low voice for him alone, and then, with a look full of promise, she moved off to the hallway where the hordes were gathering, all eager to get a piece of them.

Ten minutes later - or fifteen, twenty, who knows - he had shaken innumerable hands, smiled and nodded and thank-you'd in uncountable numbers, and somehow managed to make his way to Beckett's side just as another familiar face presented itself.

"Ms. Beckett, Mister Castle."

"Detective Gates," he exclaimed in surprise, and saw that Kate's eyebrows had gone up as well.

"Thought I'd see what all the fuss was about," the cop explained with a shrug. "I must say, you put on a very enjoyable performance."

"Well, thank you," Beckett said sincerely, shaking Gates's hand. "It was so nice of you to come."

"Yes," Castle agreed a little belatedly, "thanks for coming."

The detective shook his hand as well and then moved off into the crowd, leaving Castle and Beckett to give each other matching looks of surprise.

But before they could say anything, Howard Grainger approached, smiling widely, holding out his hands.

"There they are! The stars of the show," he exclaimed, shaking Castle's hand heartily, pulling Beckett in for an enthusiastic embrace and air-kisses on both cheeks. "Fantastic concert, really, both of you, it was wonderful," he gushed. "The Board and I are so grateful for all of your efforts. We can't thank you enough."

"It was my pleasure," Beckett murmured, looking rather nonplussed by Howard's effusive display.

"Listen, Kate," Howard went on, leaning in a little closer, "something for you to think about - I'm sure you know that Annabel had signed on for several of our spring concerts. Starting with Bach's _Magnificat_ in March. We'll be needing a new soprano for that, and a few others as well." He saw Beckett's startled expression and added, "There's plenty of time for us to find someone else, but if you were interested, there's no question, the job is yours."

"Howard, I - I don't know what-" Beckett stuttered, but her boss just held up a hand and smiled.

"No need to make a decision now. Give it some thought, and we'll talk again after the holidays." And with another big smile and a firm pat on Castle's shoulder, he ambled away.

Castle saw the conflicted expression on Beckett's face and ached to ask her what she was thinking, but it wasn't the time or place. Another pair of audience members approached, and Beckett plastered her performer's smile back onto her face to greet them.


	23. Chapter 23

_There's no religion but sex and music._  
-Sting

_You can't stay the same. If you're a musician and a singer, you have to change; that's the way it works._  
-Van Morrison

At last Kate was able to escape the crowds and make her way downstairs, smiling at the musicians who were still in the hallways and the locker room. She changed back into her street clothes, took her hair out of the bun, and shut herself into a toilet stall for a few moments just to get a brief bit of quiet and privacy - to collect herself. All that socializing always took its toll.

When she had washed her hands and gathered up her things, she went back upstairs and found that the crowd had mostly cleared out. The upstairs corridors were quiet again, just a few small clumps of people lingering.

"Hey, Beckett," came Castle's voice at her ear, startling her. "I want to show you something."

"What is it?" she stammered, flustered by his mere presence, the nearness of his body, the small quirk of his lips. He had changed back into street clothes as well, and had his briefcase and garment bag and coat with him.

"You'll see. Come on." He took her elbow and steered her toward a door at the other end of the hallway, which led to another set of stairs going up.

"Castle, I don't think we're supposed to-" she began, but he urged her on.

"It's okay, everyone's pretty much gone. Come on," he repeated, starting up the stairs.

They climbed two flights of stairs, and then he led her through a doorway, saying, "Check it out."

It was an upper-balcony luxury box, the exact opposite of the one where Darla had shot Annabel, on the other side of the stage.

"Look," Castle said, putting his armload of stuff down on a seat, taking Kate's armload as well and putting it with his. "From here you can see right into the box where, well, you know." He pointed across the performance space.

Kate looked. The lighting was dim, but yes, she could see the fateful spot where Annabel and her sister had engaged in their final argument.

"Castle, why are we here?"

"And check this out," he urged, tugging lightly on her arm. "Over here at the side there's a little nook, just like the one we found in that other box." He gave her a heated look and she inhaled sharply, suddenly remembering - as he surely wanted her to - how he had pushed her into the small space, pressed his body close to hers. How they had both felt while imagining Annabel having a liaison up there with Brett.

Castle's theory had turned out to be wrong, but the way he and Kate had reacted to each other was definitely not a figment of his imagination.

"Just think," Castle said, his voice low and husky, rumbling into her ears, raising goosebumps down her spine. "If someone else had been up here, they would have seen the whole thing."

He pressed her back into the recessed part of the wall again, nearly hidden behind the thick curtain. Kate let her hands fall onto his biceps as he inched closer, the heat of his body licking at hers.

"No, they wouldn't," she rasped back, her voice almost a whisper as desire stole the breath from her throat. Castle blinked at her, confused.

"What?"

"They wouldn't have seen anything, if they were doing what you're imagining them doing," she said with a slow smirk, and he growled softly, and his mouth crashed down on hers.

A groan of satisfaction escaped Kate's throat as she wound her arms around Castle's neck and opened eagerly to his kiss. He pressed her more firmly against the wall and plundered her mouth, one hand sliding through her hair to cup the back of her neck, the other curving around her waist. The hard heat of his body against hers felt delicious, made her head spin. His tongue was slick and wicked on hers. She twined her fingers in his hair to bring him even closer.

But when he moved around to pull her earlobe between his teeth, and his hand slipped under her shirt to caress the bare skin of her back, reality asserted itself and she struggled to regain control.

"Castle, no, wait," she gasped, pressing on his shoulders. He pulled back slightly to look at her with darkened eyes, his hair tousled, lips damp and reddened.

"What's wrong?" he questioned breathlessly.

"We should - we should get out of here," she managed, her gaze captivated by his mouth. She couldn't restrain herself from surging up to press her own lips against his again, just for a moment, just a taste. He tasted so good. She forced herself to pull back again.

"This isn't the place," she said, and he sighed loudly, nodding.

"No, you're right. You're right." He took his hands off her reluctantly, giving an apologetic smile. "I, uh, do you want..." He took a long breath, and another, looking away, carefully calming himself down. "Uh, it's too late for lunch and too early for dinner, but do you, are you hungry?"

"Not for food," she husked, and grinned at the way his head whipped back around to stare at her. Oh yes, it was the giddy high of finishing a concert that emboldened her, but it wasn't just that; it was him. Her and him. She was ready - so very ready.

"Take me back to my place, Castle," she murmured, biting her lower lip slowly, deliberately. The flare of passion in his eyes sent a powerful thrill rushing through her.

"Yeah," he said quickly, hoarsely, and turned away again to retrieve their belongings.

* * *

Castle sank into the driver's seat of his car and breathed a quiet sigh of relief. He had thought his legs might give out on the way from the balcony to the parking garage, so completely undone was he by Beckett's flirty side. As she slid into the seat next to him after stowing her violin in the back, she flashed him a smile that was somehow both seductive and hesitant. He lowered his eyelids and smiled back, his sleepy half-lidded grin that always seemed to work on women.

It worked on Beckett too, judging from the way she sucked in a breath and turned to look out the window while she reached blindly to buckle her seatbelt.

Quickly Castle buckled his own seatbelt, put the car in gear, and drove out of the garage.

"What's Alexis doing today?" Beckett asked as he pulled out onto the street. He twitched a little at the sound of her voice, but he knew what she was doing, what she was obliquely asking. He was grateful for the neutral conversation, the opportunity to cool things off a little.

"She said she has a lot of homework to catch up on," he replied, carefully casual. "Didn't get much done yesterday, I guess, between our concert and Mother's show."

"She's very responsible," Beckett murmured, and he felt her gaze on his profile.

"Makes you wonder where she got it from, huh?"

She snorted softly. "You said it, Castle, not me."

"Oh! I almost forgot!" he exclaimed suddenly, spotting a sign. "I promised you coffee and donuts."

Beckett laughed aloud this time, a lovely sound that made his heart leap. He couldn't help grinning as he yanked the steering wheel over and pulled the car up to the curb.

"Wait here," he directed, and dashed inside the shop.

It was the same little deli where he had gotten his lunch twice this week, and he had noticed the big puffy donuts in the dessert case. The elderly proprietors were happy to see him, but he apologized breathlessly, saying, "Sorry I can't stay and chat today - she's waiting in the car." The white-haired husband winked at him and put the donuts in a bag while the wife poured coffee into two large to-go cups.

"Sorry it's not a vanilla latte," he commented when he got back to the car, handing Beckett one of the coffee cups and the bag of donuts, "but this place does make great coffee."

"I'm sure it's fine," she said, lifting the lid. "I haven't had coffee in two whole days. Oh, that smells amazing." She took a sip and sighed deeply with pleasure.

"Do you two need to be alone?" Castle asked, smirking. He put the other coffee cup into the cupholder, re-buckled his seatbelt, and pulled the car back out into traffic.

"Shut up," Beckett mumbled, ducking her head. She opened the bag. "Castle, these donuts are huge."

"Yeah," he agreed. "There's one cinnamon and one glazed. I didn't know what kind you'd want."

"Glazed is perfect," she said, pulling the donut out. She took a bite and groaned. "Oh wow. I missed dessert two days in a row too."

"The sacrifices we make for our art," he joked weakly, shifting on the seat. The sight of Beckett licking her fingers - even just out of the corner of his eye - was making his pants feel tight, his whole body tingling. She hummed with pleasure as she ate, and he thought his heart might stop.

At the next red light, after carefully bringing the car to a complete stop, he turned toward Beckett and said, somewhat strangled, "Do you have to make those noises?"

She smiled over at him, slow and sultry. "Sorry," she said, not sounding at all sorry. "This donut is just so good." And she leaned over and kissed him, pushing her tongue into his mouth, letting him taste the sweet sticky glaze from the donut. He groaned, sweeping his tongue across her lips, seeking more of that sugar.

"Light's green," she murmured into his mouth, and he huffed out an explosive breath and tried to focus on driving.

* * *

By the time they got to her place, Kate was beginning to regret having teased Castle so much; it had affected her equally strongly, and she was already breathing faster just from sitting in the car with him.

Somehow she managed to restrain herself - and Castle was a perfect gentleman - for as long as it took to gather her things from the back seat, enter the building, and take the elevator up to her floor. Castle followed her in silence, heated looks flashing between them the whole way.

But when they got into her apartment, as she was putting down her violin, the question came bursting out of her mouth of its own volition: "Did you really mean what you said? About me being the first to read your new opera?"

Castle blinked, clearly taken aback, startled out of the fog of desire that had gathered around the two of them. "I, uh, yeah," he exclaimed, his eyes wide and bright. "I mean, it's hard to say when it'll be ready, though. I want to get it just right. I really want you to like Nikki."

"Who?" she frowned in confusion, drifting toward him.

"The main character. Nikki Heat."

"Nikki Heat?" she repeated, her jaw dropping in disbelief. "What kind of name is that?"

"A cop name," he shrugged, sitting down on her couch.

"It's a stripper name," she accused, folding her arms across her chest.

"Well, she is kinda slutty," he grinned, but at the sight of her glare he winced and backpedaled. "Kidding, no, I'm just kidding, Beckett." He reached out and grabbed her elbow, tugged her down to sit beside him. "It's a good name," he said softly, brushing his lips across hers. "It's a name with bite." He nipped at her earlobe to punctuate the words. She gasped, wrapping her hands around his upper arms.

"Nikki is a strong name, because she's strong, because you're strong," Castle murmured in her ear, his tongue leaving a wet trail across her jaw. "And Heat is a hot name, because she's hot ... because you're hot."

Kate shook her head, rolling her eyes, even as another gasp escaped her and she squirmed in his arms, his mouth finding all her most sensitive spots. Honestly, the man was ridiculous. Somehow he managed to make 'Nikki Heat' sound almost reasonable.

"Kate," he said, his low gravelly voice trickling across her nerves, his hands hot on her back. "Can I give you that hickey now?"

She drew in a slow, shaky breath. "On the couch?"

"No, on the neck," he rumbled, his eyes sparkling.

" _Castle._ " But he fastened his mouth to that same spot on her neck again and she moaned, her head falling back onto the couch cushion behind her. She felt the scrape of his teeth and shuddered, hard.

His hand slipped under her t-shirt and caressed her stomach while his mouth was working. She writhed slowly under him, overwhelmed by sensation. After a moment he lifted off and said with satisfaction, "That should do it."

She blew out a breath of disbelief, but he wasn't done. He pushed her shirt up a little higher. "Where else can I put a hickey?" he asked with a slow, sexy grin that made her whole body flush hot. His fingers danced across her ribs. "Here?" Higher, and he brushed the underside of one breast with his fingertips. "Here?"

"Oh God." She breathed in deeply and managed to gather the presence of mind to sit up. "Castle ... let's go to the bedroom."

She stood, and was pleased to find that her legs only wobbled a little bit. She looked down at Castle's astonished face, quirked an eyebrow, and pulled the t-shirt over her head.

The shirt hit the floor, and Castle sprang to his feet, his hands wrapping around her waist, his mouth finding hers again. She kissed him back enthusiastically, pulling him toward the hallway that led to her bedroom. Their hands were everywhere, pulling at clothing, stroking bare skin wherever it could be found. Slowly, erratically, reluctant to break the kiss even for a breath, they made their way across the apartment and stumbled through the bedroom door not a moment too soon.

* * *

"I was right," Castle grinned, later, lying in a sweaty tangle on Beckett's bed. "You are a screamer."

She huffed in annoyance. "I was right too," she retorted. "You are arrogant."

He grinned some more. With an effort, he rolled himself up onto his side and looked down at her. Naked, sheened with sweat, her hair spread across the pillow, her eyeliner smudged, she was gorgeous. He could hardly believe his good fortune, whatever cosmic force had smiled upon him and allowed him to end up in this woman's bed.

"You like me because I'm arrogant," he said, and leaned over her a little farther, checking on the progress of the hickey. It seemed to be coming along nicely. He gave it an extra nip just in case.

Beckett turned her head, and her teeth grazed his shoulder, making him jump.

"Who says I like you?" she asked with a glint in her eye. But her hand was sneaking down between their bodies and he gasped, jerking against her when that wandering hand found its mark.

"Oh, you like me all right," he got out, nearly breathless with awe as she pushed him onto his back and rolled on top of him. She was a goddess, rising above him, tossing her hair back over her shoulder, her eyes flashing.

"It's your turn to scream," she announced, and smirked, and lowered her body over his.

* * *

Later still, as they were again lying side-by-side on the bed, panting, their stomachs growled almost in unison. They both laughed, a little self-consciously, looking at each other.

"We could order something for delivery?" Kate offered tentatively, and she saw how Castle lit up at the suggestion, though he tried to play it cool.

"That sounds good," he said, and she nodded and got up, groaning a little as she reached for her bathrobe. Oh, it had been a while since she'd felt that particular ache.

She went into the bathroom and cleaned herself up a bit. When she came out, Castle had pulled on his boxers and t-shirt, and he took a turn in the bathroom.

"Chinese okay?" she asked when he emerged.

"Sure."

After the food was ordered, Kate moved around the kitchen taking out dishes and utensils. As she set the table, her hands trembled slightly. _What next?_ she was thinking - _what next?_ in so many ways, about so many things. The adrenaline rush was rapidly wearing off.

Castle came up behind her, startling her slightly. "Not having regrets, are you?" he asked quietly. She turned to look at him, shaking her head vehemently.

"No. No," she said firmly. "I just ... it was a long week. Emotional."

"Yeah," he nodded. "Are you thinking about what Howard said? That Bach he mentioned? I don't think I know it."

"The _Magnificat_. It's got a couple of good soprano solos," she mused, trying to call up the melodies in her mind. " _Et exultavit spiritus meus,_ " she sang softly, trying it out.

"Well, that's an ego-boost," he joked. She smiled a little, but then her mind went back to the question.

"After my mom died..." she said slowly, and Castle's expression turned serious. He looked at her with such tenderness, it made her chest tighten.

"Go on," he encouraged gently.

"I was angry at her," Kate confessed, lowering her chin, letting the memories flood over her. "For a long time. A long time. And everyone said it was normal - said I needed to give myself time to forgive her. And they were right. Eventually I got to that place."

"But," Castle prompted, his voice so soft, and she could feel his gaze on her even as she stared at the floor.

"But..." she repeated, "but I never took the time to forgive myself." She lifted her head and saw Castle about to object, and forestalled him with a look. "I know it wasn't my fault, but I still ... felt guilty anyway. Ashamed. And no one ever told me to give myself time for that too." She took a deep breath. "I wanted to sing, so badly. And I wouldn't let myself do it, or if I did, I felt guilty about it. Until this week."

Castle was silent, letting her get it out. She felt a surge of gratitude and a fierce need to express it.

"I have to thank you for that," she said, meeting his eyes. His brows went up in surprise.

"I didn't do anything," he said, but she shook her head, dusting her fingertips over his lips.

"You did. You helped me see the way to break out of that cycle. To give myself permission to sing again."

Castle captured her hand in both of his, kissed the back of it lightly. "You helped me too," he said softly. "Before this week I was starting to worry that I'd never be able to compose again."

Kate blushed and turned her head away, but he put his fingers on her chin and turned her to face him again. "Kate," he said fervently. "Let me take you to dinner, tomorrow. And Tuesday. And Wednesday. And-"

"Castle," she protested, half laughing, even as her gut twisted with an exhilarating mix of emotions.

She thought back to all the times this past week that he had asked her out, and she had refused, out of a variety of fears - fear that she would end up on page six; fear that Castle wasn't taking anything seriously ... Well, she was probably going to be on page six regardless, after this weekend, she realized with a jolt. And as for the rest ... maybe it was time for her to start taking things less seriously. Her mother was dead, but Kate still had a life to live.

"Dinner tomorrow," she said, "and then we'll see."

Castle's face lit up with delight. "Deal. I'll make a reservation." His arm curved around her waist, and his lips found hers again.

* * *

On Monday morning Kate walked into the Juilliard school building with her violin in its case over her shoulder. Her shoulders were back, her head held high, her stride confident. She was wearing a turtleneck, relishing the lingering soreness between her thighs and, yes, the hoarseness of her voice. Castle had made good on that promise all over again after the Chinese food had restored their energy levels.

A number of people greeted her as she walked the familiar hallways of this beloved place, where she had spent so many years working on her craft; she gave them all smiles and friendly hellos. It was like coming home.

Today, though, she bypassed the string department and made her way through the corridors to the administrative section where the Vocal Arts faculty had their offices. The door she sought was already open. Taking a deep, slow breath, she knocked on the door frame and peeked inside.

"Busy?"

"Kate! Come in!" Roy Montgomery leapt up from his seat behind a desk that was as tidy as she remembered it. "Come in, come in," he repeated, moving around the desk and taking her arm, ushering her inside. "It's good to see you again. Dare I ask what brings you here?"

"Um." All of a sudden she found herself feeling shy and self-conscious in front of this man, who had known her mother so well, had coached her for so many years. "Roy, I don't know if I can commit to anything right now," she said slowly, "but I - if your offer is still open..."

"Of course it is. Of course," he replied, his face softening as he took her in. "You're nervous, Kate, and that's natural. But I'm so glad you've taken this leap."

"Me too," she said, softly, and then again, firming her jaw, making her voice ring with confidence, "Me too. I'm looking forward to learning from you."

"We can start slow," he assured her. "Once or twice a week, just to dip your toe in, see how you feel. That sound right?"

"Yes," she agreed gratefully. "That sounds perfect."

"Let me look at my calendar. I'm sure I have some time tomorrow or Wednesday."

Stepping back out onto the sidewalk a few minutes later, Kate felt lighter-hearted than she had in a long time - maybe since her mother was alive. She found herself smiling as she started to walk to the subway. Her phone chimed with a text, and her heart pounded giddily in her chest when she saw that it was from him. Castle.

_I have to meet with my agent this morning, it said, but then I really need to see you. Can't wait till tonight. Lunch?_

She tried to bite back her grin as she thumbed the keyboard in reply. _Sounds great_ , she typed. _Get some takeout and meet me at my place._ She took a deep breath, hit Send, and finally allowed the smile to bloom across her whole face as she walked down the stairs.

**_The End_ **


	24. Epilogue

  
_Sing we joyous all together_  
_Fa la la, la la la, la la la_  
_Heedless of the wind and weather_  
_Fa la la la la, la la la la._  
_-traditional_  


* * *

"Oh, Castle, no, you promised," Kate scolded when he opened the door of his loft. He followed her gaze to the box in his other hand, gaily wrapped in shiny red and green paper.

"I know," he said guiltily, "but I couldn't resist. It's Christmas!" He reached out and took her arm, ushering her inside.

"Yeah, but we agreed," she reminded him, stepping into the loft and taking off her coat. "Hi, Martha."

"Hello, dear," called the diva on her way through from the kitchen. "Don't mind me, I'll just be upstairs."

"Oh, that's okay. I can't stay long." Kate fixed her boyfriend with a glare as he finished hanging up her coat and turned back to her. "Castle-"

He cut her off with a kiss, looping his arm around her waist to pull her against him. She sighed, but she couldn't help responding - she could never seem to resist his kisses. By the time he pulled back, her hands were around his neck and she was panting against his lips. He smiled disarmingly.

"What brings you here, anyway? I didn't think we'd be seeing you till dinner."

"Just thought I'd stop by," she evaded, because she wasn't letting him off the hook yet. "And don't try to change the subject." She narrowed her eyes again at the gift.

"I'm sorry," he said earnestly. "I know we said no Christmas presents this year, we've only been together a few weeks, yadda yadda. But listen." He led her farther into the loft, which was elaborately decorated with wreaths, garlands, and all the accoutrements of the season. "It's Christmas Eve Eve Day, two whole days away from the main event, so it doesn't even count as a Christmas present. It's just ... a present."

"It's in Christmas wrapping paper," she pointed out, rolling her eyes. Castle gave his best puppy-dog expression, his eyes pleading with her as he pulled her down onto the couch.

"Come on, Kate," he wheedled. "Tomorrow you're leaving to go upstate with your dad, and I won't see you again until next week, and I just really want you to have this today. I was going to give it to you at dinner, but since you're here now..." He leaned over and kissed her cheek softly. "Please?" he added, silken in her ear.

She sighed and, of course, relented. "Okay, fine. I'll open it." He bounced on the couch like a little boy as she took the gift from him and began to remove the wrappings.

Inside the paper was a flat box, which she opened to reveal a spiral-bound manuscript. Printed across the front cover in an elaborate font were the words Heat Wave, by Richard Castle.

"Rick," she breathed, her mouth falling open as she carefully turned the pages, scanning the lines of music. Castle's notation software and expensive printer had turned out a beautiful musical score, lyrics and vocal lines and orchestral parts all neatly lined up on each page.

"It's only Act One so far," he said quietly, "but I wanted you to have it the minute it was ready. You can read it at your aunt's house when all that family togetherness gets to be too much." He looked a little timidly into her shining eyes. "I, I really hope you'll like it."

"I'm sure I'll love it," she said, leaning in for a deep kiss. Her heart was pounding before their lips even touched, just from the thought of finally reading the opera he was composing based on her.

"Now," Castle said when they finally broke for air, "why are you really here, Beckett? 'Just thought I'd stop by,' my Aunt Fanny. Spill."

"Um," she replied hesitantly, twisting her hands in her lap, "well, it's about our dinner plans tonight, actually."

His face fell. "You're canceling our Christmas Eve Eve date?"

"No," she said quickly, reaching up to run her fingers along his forehead, trying to smooth away the frown. "No, not canceling, just changing. I, um, I have a bit of a surprise for you too."

"Really?" His smile bloomed across his face, drawing an answering grin to her own. She loved being able to make him look that happy - it never failed to amaze her that she had that power.

"Yep, really."

"Is it a naughty X-rated surprise?" he asked hopefully, waggling his eyebrows. She chuckled.

"Sorry, babe, this one is strictly PG."

"Are you sure? Because I saw this 'slutty Santa' costume in the store and it would definitely-"

"Forget it, Castle," she said firmly. "It's just - Wait, exactly which store were you in when you saw this?" she added, fixing him with a stern look. He gulped guiltily.

"Um."

"Never mind," Kate decided. "Listen, just come to Rockefeller Center tonight at seven, okay? Bring Alexis, if she's free."

"Oh." He looked briefly disappointed. "So, your surprise doesn't have anything to do with naked ice-skating, then."

She burst out laughing. "No. No, it most certainly does not." Sobering, biting her lip, she added tentatively, "But I think you'll like it anyway."

"Hey." He slid his arm around her and pulled her closer. "I'm sure I will. Even if it is rated PG."

She leaned into his kiss again, but only briefly, before she slid her hands to his chest and gently pushed him away.

"I have to go." She glanced at her watch. "This was the last time slot Roy had before he leaves for the holidays, so I really shouldn't be late."

"Ah. Okay," Castle said, looking away diffidently.

Kate knew that he was struggling not to ask her how things were going with Roy Montgomery, with her new regime of twice-a-week singing lessons. Castle had been so careful these past few weeks not to bring it up: not putting any pressure on her, not mentioning anything even remotely related to her singing. She loved that he was being so respectful of her feelings, even though she knew it was driving him crazy wondering whether she would ever sing in public again.

He wasn't the only one, either. In the weeks after her appearances onstage for _Messiah_ , it seemed like every newspaper and music blog in New York had put out an article asking the same question. _Will we ever hear Kate Beckett sing again?_ they all wanted to know. She had been contacted by quite a few of them seeking comment - and when they'd gotten nothing out of her, they had tried Castle too, once word got around that the two of them were involved. Castle didn't like letting on that he was as much in the dark as the reporters were, but he did enjoy the little dance of making them chase him for answers, only to give them a _No comment_ in response.

Many of them thought that Kate's silence on the topic was a publicity ploy, a calculated device. Of course, Castle knew that wasn't the case, and he understood better than almost anyone why Kate didn't want to talk about it, so he was restraining his frustration and waiting for her to be ready. It was so sweet, she thought, and so typical of his true nature - the one hiding behind the carefree playboy persona he affected in public - the one she had been getting to know these last few weeks, to her ongoing delight.

"Rockefeller Center at seven," she repeated, smiling softly at him. God, he made her into such a sap. "And we can come back here for dinner afterward, like we planned, just a little bit later."

"Oh, good." He grinned. "Because I already prepared the whole menu and made the dessert, and it would be a shame to let that much chocolate go to waste."

"Like chocolate would ever go to waste in this household," Kate laughed, carefully packing the Heat Wave manuscript back into its box and sliding it into her shoulder bag.

"Well, you have a point." He walked her to the door. "Oh, and Kate?"

"Yeah?" She lifted her eyebrows inquiringly at him as he took her coat back out of the closet and held it for her.

"Look up," was all he said after he had settled the coat on her shoulders and gently pulled her hair out of the collar.

She tipped her head back to gaze upward, and chuckled softly when she spotted the large, bright-green sprig of mistletoe carefully hung from the ceiling directly above her head.

"You don't need tricks to get a kiss from me, mister," she murmured flirtatiously, hooking her fingers into Castle's belt loops to pull him close. He hummed softly as their mouths met, her tongue slicking across his lips in a slow sweep.

"I know, but it's fun," he grinned against her lips, pulling her in even tighter and kissing her again.

"Later," she promised, reluctantly disengaging from him. "I'll meet you here under the mistletoe again, later."

"I'll hold you to that," he replied with a smirk. She smiled back and forced herself to turn away, pulling her bag over her shoulder and heading for the elevator.

* * *

"She didn't say where to go or what to look for?" Alexis asked at 6:59 that evening, clutching her father's arm tightly to keep from getting separated in the crush of people. Rockefeller Center was as crowded as Castle had ever seen it, and he was suddenly remembering why he didn't usually venture up to this area so close to Christmas.

"No," he replied over his shoulder as he threaded his way through the crowd. "She just said to be here at seven. Maybe she's down on the rink."

Around the perimeter of the iconic ice-skating rink, people were massed at least three deep trying to get a view of the skaters whirling around on the ice, or of the massive Christmas tree across the way. Castle craned his neck, peering around heads, scanning the ice for his girlfriend.

"Dad. Dad! Over there," Alexis exclaimed suddenly, excitement tinging her voice as she yanked on his sleeve to get his attention. He looked back at his daughter, then followed her gaze and her pointing finger to the area on the other side of the ice, beside the huge tree.

"Oh," he exclaimed. "You think? Really?"

"Yes," Alexis assented with an eager nod, "come on, let's get closer."

As they worked their way around the edge of the rink, suddenly they could hear it, getting louder as they approached: the sound of Christmas caroling.

At last Castle and Alexis reached the edge of the crowd, where a velvet rope separated the mass of people from the famous tree. At the foot of the tree, a group of choristers from the New York Symphony Choir was gathered in three neat rows, all wearing red scarves, their cheeks pink from the cold, but smiling as they sang. Lanie stood facing the group, conducting them with a wave of one gloved hand.

" _Joyful all ye nations rise_  
_Join the triumph of the skies…_ "

"Dad," Alexis breathed into his ear, but he had already spotted her and was standing transfixed.

Kate was in the front row despite her height, sandwiched between Judith and Doris, her smile splitting her face from ear to ear as she sang along with the group. The chilly flush to her cheeks seemed to intensify, and Castle knew that she had noticed him, though she carefully didn't make eye contact.

The chorus finished their song, nodded good-naturedly at the smattering of applause from the gathered crowd, and launched into _Frosty the Snowman_ \- much to the delight of several small children in the audience, who began to jump and dance in place, drawing smiles from the singers as well as the other onlookers.

Alexis was bouncing a little bit also in her excitement, but Castle just stood still, drinking in the sight and sound of his girlfriend enjoying herself with the choir, so carefree and happy. His face was cold, but he was beaming with pleasure, awed all over again by the strength and beauty of this woman who for some reason had deigned to spend time with him.

The peppy song came to an end, and the ranks of singers shifted; Kate stepped forward, and the others shuffled together to fill the gap she had left. At a signal from Lanie, the rest of the chorus began to croon a series of soft oohs, blending together in an accompaniment as smooth as any orchestra.

And then Kate began to sing over them.

" _O holy night, the stars are brightly shining,_ " she caroled, her clear tones rising above the rumble of the crowd and causing heads to turn. " _It is the night of our dear Savior's birth._ "

" _Ahh,_ " sang the rest of the choir.

Alexis turned her face up toward her father. "Dad, are you going to cry?"

"Don't be crazy. I have a manly image to preserve," he muttered, nudging her with his elbow, blinking fast and hard.

" _Long lay the world in sin and error pining,_ " Kate sang, " _till he appeared and the soul felt its worth._ "

" _Ooh, ahh,_ " the choir continued.

"Your secret's safe with me," Alexis whispered, and slid her arm around Castle's waist. He hugged her close, never taking his eyes off Kate.

" _A thrill of hope, the weary world rejoices. For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn._ "

The whole chorus burst in exuberantly with " _Fall on your knees_ " and Castle thought he just might.

After the song was done, the audience burst into applause again, and Kate resumed her place among the sopranos. The group sang several more songs, and then they were finished, smiling and waving at the crowd as they began to disperse.

Castle had seen several people in the gathered crowd snapping pictures with their phones, and he had no doubt that the news of Kate's little solo would be circulating on the 'net within minutes. He didn't mention that to her, of course, when she finally finished saying her goodbyes to the other singers and made her way over to him.

"Kate! That was awesome," Alexis enthused, throwing her arms around Kate as soon as she was within reach. Kate squeezed the girl back and smiled with genuine pleasure.

"Thanks, Alexis. It was fun." Then she turned her face toward Castle, her smile turning a little bashful. "Christmas caroling is always so much fun."

"Best surprise ever," he asserted with fervor, kissing her lightly, and then more deeply when Alexis let her go. He paused and pulled back to look into Kate's eyes, hoping that his face conveyed everything that her singing and her courage made him feel; and then he couldn't resist pressing his mouth to hers again, tasting her sweet smile.

Kate pressed up eagerly into him, her nose cold against his cheek, making him yelp. She pulled back again and laughed a little.

"Wimp."

"Get a room, geez," Alexis put in, pointedly turning her back on them. Castle snickered, but Kate was blushing and looking down, so he took pity on both of them.

"Let's get you out of the cold, Kate. And Alexis, isn't it time for you to get to Paige's house for your sleepover?"

Together they fought their way through the crowd to Fifth Avenue and, miraculously, found the town car that he had ordered earlier. Despite the heavy traffic, it only took a few minutes to get to Alexis's friend's house, and the girl hugged them both quickly before climbing out of the car with her backpack.

As the car headed back toward Castle's loft, he pulled Kate closer and kissed her again, but she disengaged after only a moment, blushing and muttering "Not in the car."

"Oh please, I'm sure this driver has seen a lot worse," he grinned, but he acquiesced, just taking Kate's hand and holding it between both of his.

At the loft, they chatted easily while Castle finished the meal prep that he had begun earlier. Almost everything was ready, the entree needing only a few minutes in the oven to warm up while he dressed the salad and poured the wine. They sat at the dining table, eating and talking and exchanging the occasional heated glance.

When the meal was finished and the second glass of wine polished off, he said, "Ready for dessert?"

"Ooh," Kate said, putting a hand to her stomach. "I'm stuffed. Let's take a few minutes to digest first."

So he got up to clear the table, and as usual Kate rose to help, and as usual he tried unsuccessfully to tell her to sit and let him do it. Instead they cleared together, loading the dishwasher and putting away the rest of the wine for later.

Castle was running water into the pots to soak them when he heard Kate's sultriest voice calling him.

"Castle, I need you over here for a minute," she said, velvety soft, and he turned from the sink to see her standing by the front door. For a moment he thought in dismay that she was going to leave, but then he remembered the mistletoe. His heart leapt, and he couldn't stride across the room fast enough.

"Hey, you," he breathed as he pulled her into his arms. She smiled up at him, her eyes dark.

"Hey," she responded, and kissed him hotly. He groaned, pressing her closer against him as their tongues twined together.

"Castle," Kate gasped, pulling back after a minute or two of heated kissing.

"Yeah?" he panted, chasing her lips again.

"Let's go to the bedroom and have dessert," she murmured, her eyebrows arching suggestively.

"I thought you wanted to wait," he smirked.

"I'll wait for the chocolate," she replied, sliding her hands down his chest to curl her fingers in the waistband of his pants. "Right now, you're my dessert."

* * *

An hour or two later, after spending some time in the bedroom, then going back to the kitchen for the chocolate mousse that Castle had made, then back to the bedroom, and then taking a lengthy shower together, it was time for them to reluctantly say goodbye. Kate got dressed and combed out her still-drying hair while Castle sat on the bed in his boxers, watching and pouting.

"I don't want you to go."

"I know, but this was the plan," she reminded him, ruffling his hair affectionately on her way through the bedroom to retrieve her shoes from the study. "I'm leaving with my dad first thing in the morning, so it's better this way, remember?"

"Yeah, yeah," he grumbled, following her out to the living room. "It seemed to make sense at the time, I guess."

"Don't sulk, babe. You'll have a nice Christmas with Martha and Alexis, and I'll be back in time for New Year's." She went to the closet to retrieve her coat. "I'll call you from Aunt Theresa's house if I can. Tell you what I thought of Act One."

His face lit up. "Promise?" He took the coat from her and held it for her to slide her arms in. "I loved your surprise too. It was so great hearing you sing again."

"Oh." She turned back to him, suddenly shy again, blushing, smiling. "Really?"

"Of course." He drew her closer, buttoning up her coat. "And that was really smart, Christmas caroling. It's low-pressure and fun."

"Exactly." She smiled up at him, gratified. It was the same reasoning that had convinced her to agree to the caroling when Lanie suggested it. "That's what I thought too. And thanks for not pushing me about it, Castle. You've been so careful not to ask, and I-"

"Hey," he said gently, smoothing her hair back from her face. "I knew you'd say something when you were ready."

"Yeah." She bit her lip deliberately. "Maybe when I get back, I'll give you a private serenade."

His eyebrows went up, amusement and pleasure blossoming in his eyes. "Well, I'll certainly look forward to that." They both chuckled softly, and he pressed his mouth to hers again one more time as she reached over to open the door.

Reluctantly, they separated, and she stepped out the door, giving him one last smile before she left.

She was just getting off the elevator at the ground floor when her cell phone rang.

"Castle," she half-laughed, half-scolded into the phone. "We just said goodbye a minute ago."

"I know," he agreed, "but I just wanted to make sure you know that I miss you already."

"Don't be so melodramatic." She rolled her eyes, but she was smiling as she walked toward the subway. "You'll be fine. Go sit at the piano, work on Act Two."

"Yeah." She could practically hear him perking up. "Yeah, I'll do that."

"Okay. I'll talk to you soon, babe."

"Right." He sighed a little. "Okay, have a good trip. Drive carefully."

"I will. And don't stay up too late. Remember, Santa can't come until you're asleep."

He chuckled softly. "I won't. Merry Christmas, Kate."

"Merry Christmas, Castle."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed this story. If you did, you might also enjoy the sequel, which is just one chapter, titled Root Position. You can currently find it on ffnet under my same username, and I'll get around to posting it here eventually.


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